Tomorrow Will Be Better
by Rose Stetson
Summary: Lee and Amanda face the events of 9/11/01 together with their friends, family, and the Agency. WARNING: While the events of 9/11 portrayed in this piece are treated in much the same way similar events would be treated in the series, the relative newness of this tragedy may cause readers to be uncomfortable with reading this story.
1. September 11, 2001--12:37 am--NYC

**"Tomorrow Will Be Better"**

**_Summary: _**_Lee and Amanda face the events of 9/11/01 together with their friends, family, and the Agency. WARNING: __While the events of 9/11 portrayed in this piece are treated in much the same way similar events would be treated in the series, the relative newness of this tragedy may cause readers to be uncomfortable with reading this story._

**_Disclaimer: _**_The characters of Scarecrow and Mrs. King do not belong to me. The news coverage featured as part of the historical setting for the 9/11/01 news coverage belongs CNN. _

**_Author's Note: _**_This story took twelve years to write for me. It helped me to deal as an adult with some of the new realities which we have had to face since September 11, 2001, and so I felt compelled to share this story. I hope it will be taken in the same way in which it is offered—as a memorial to the brave men and women, from government agencies, community hospitals, emergency service providers, branches of the military, and even average households, who became heroes for banding together for the benefit of the community after this tragedy._

**September 11, 2001**

_12:37 am—New York City Agency Offices in the World Trade Center_

There had been times in Lee's bachelorhood when travel, whether for business or pleasure, was one of the perks of his lifestyle. Venice, Gstaad, Tegernsee, Munich, London, Stockholm, Japan, even Afghanistan—each had held some exotic pleasure for him.

Now, however, even a three-day trip to New York was too much. He missed his wife. He missed his daughter. He missed having a pulse on the office he now ran.

It was official, he thought to himself. He was an old man.

"Are you headed back to the hotel?" Jack Turner asked, patting Lee on the back as they got a final cup of coffee after nearly three days of administrative budget meetings.

"You know, I probably should," Lee admitted. "But I'm feeling my age a little more than I like to, and so I think I'm going to do something more impulsive than responsible."

"Yeah?" Turner asked with a laugh. "And what is that exactly, Scarecrow? Use your expense account to rack up a night of ladies, liquor, and luxury at the Ritz?"

Lee chuckled. "Let's not let five years go by before we see each other again, okay?"

"You're the boss," Turner said with a laugh.

Lee rolled his eyes as he pulled his jacket on over his dress shirt and slacks. "Yeah—the boss. I may be _a_ boss, but I'm not _the _boss."

Turner walked Lee to the entrance of the New York branch of the Agency. "You mean, you haven't heard? There are rumblings that they're picking the next Blue Leader."

Lee looked up in surprise. "Blue Leader?"

Turner nodded. "With your connections to Harry Thornton and after Blue Leader picked you to plug the leak in the DC office back in '84, everyone assumes you've been groomed for the position."

"The point of Blue Leader is to keep him anonymous," Lee reminded his friend. "So, I highly doubt that with all of that evidence that I'll be tapped for Blue Leader that anyone will actually select me."

"But Scarecrow," Turner said with a grin as they reached the exit. "Doing something that is predictable is often the very thing that no one in this line of work would think of!"

Lee shook his head as he put his hand on the door. "You have too much time on your hands, Turner, if that's what you're thinking about."

"Yes, well, I doubt you'll be able to think about anything else from now on," Turner said with a note of glee in his voice.

Lee laughed. "Yes, I suppose you're right. I'll see you around, Turner."


	2. 6:09 am--Amanda's

_6:09 am—Stetson-King Household_

"Rise and shine!"

Thirteen-year-old Jennifer Stetson groaned as her mother opened the blinds in her bedroom.

"It's time to get up for school, sweetheart."

Jennifer forced her head up out of the pillow to face her mother. "I'm—up," she croaked.

Amanda shook her head. "I know you're not much of a morning person—you get that from your father—but couldn't you be a _little_ happier that the sun's shining and it promises to be a beautiful day?"

Jennifer dropped her face back into her pillow. "I don't feel good."

Amanda's eyes grew concerned as she sat on the bed beside her daughter. "Let me take a look."

Jennifer rolled over, her eyes closed, and Amanda placed a hand on her daughter's forehead. "You _are_ a little warm," she murmured softly.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Jennifer groaned. She clapped a hand over her mouth as she raced out of the bedroom to the bathroom.

"I guess we're staying home today," Amanda murmured as she followed her daughter out of the room.


	3. 7:00 am--IFF

_7:00 am—IFF_

"Unbelievable!" Francine cried, throwing the report down on Lee's desk. "Lee leaves for three days—three days of intensive administrative meetings at the New York office—and everyone decides to take a vacation! Cryptology, translation, transcription, everyone!"

She received wary looks from each of the department heads she was speaking to.

"Now, I want this backlog cleared up by the time Lee comes back," she said instantly. "This is disgraceful—what if there's some useful tidbit on these tapes, hm? Your departments will work round the clock if you have to, but a two-week delay on getting these codes, surveillance tapes, and translations back is just too much in our line of work! Now, have I made myself clear?"

They nodded as a timid secretary poked her head into the office. "Miss Desmond?"

Francine turned to the younger woman. "Yes?"

"Mrs. King called to tell you that she won't be able to attend the staff meeting. Her daughter is ill today."

"Of course not," Francine said with a groan. "Because when Lee leaves the office, everyone else feels entitled to a day off!"

The secretary turned a nervous look to the other occupants of the room who each shrugged as if confused by the woman's attitude.

"Dismissed," Francine snapped as she turned a pointed look back to the secretary. "Now, where was I?" she asked as she turned back to her audience.

"You were trying to tell us how to run our departments," Dr. Timothy Walker, from Cryptology, said with an unimpressed frown on his face. "May I remind you that Lee Stetson has gone to an administrative meeting about budgets in the hopes of restoring our budgets to their original sizes so that there _is_ no lag?"

He stood, and Francine swallowed. He was a tall, thin man—at least six-foot-three—with a full head of brown hair which had begun graying at the temples, penetrating blue eyes, and a sharp mind. He walked toward her, slowly and deliberately, and looked her in the eyes.

"Since the end of the Cold War, the budgets for Cryptology, Translation, _and_ Transcription have been steadily cut until they have become fractions of what they once were. Our people are overworked and underpaid, and we _don't_ appreciate agents like _you_ telling us that we're not doing our jobs well enough, fast enough, or anything else enough! Why don't you and _your_ staff give up a significant portion of your expense accounts and _then_, I'll sit at a table and talk about becoming the slave driver you want me to be."

Francine blinked in surprise as Dr. Walker turned to his fellow department heads. "This meeting is adjourned."

And then, with a final and pointed look at Francine, he walked out of the room.


	4. 7:58 am--Amanda's

_7:58 am—Stetson-King Household_

"Philip, it's your mother," Amanda greeted after the beep on her son's voicemail. "I know you have your big presentation at the Pentagon, and you're probably too old to have your mother wish you luck before these things anymore, but I just wanted to say—before you have to go in for that meeting—that I love you, I'm proud of you, and I'm sure you'll do great!" Amanda sighed softly. "Well, that was about it. Call us and let us know how it went—I mean, if you can. And tell Julie and the twins that we love them. We'll see you Sunday for dinner."

Amanda hung up the phone before she turned to her stove in the kitchen to prepare a good breakfast. Jennifer probably wouldn't be hungry for another day or so, but she wanted to make sure that some toast, applesauce, yogurt, and other easily digested foods were at least available on demand. As for herself, she happened to like big breakfasts—no matter how against them her husband was. She liked the sound of bacon crackling on the stove, the smell of waffles on the iron, and the taste of freshly squeezed orange juice. Every once in a while—especially when she was by herself—she would indulge in a nice breakfast. She might even go out into the garden and pick a rose for her breakfast tray.

The phone rang, and Amanda reached for it and expertly put it in the crook of her neck before cracking an egg in the bowl. "Hello?"

"Hello, is this Amanda King's phone number?"

"Who's calling?"

"An old friend," the woman said with a surprisingly characteristic smile in her tone.

"Penny?" Amanda cried in surprise as an unbroken egg dropped from her hands into the waffle batter she was making.

"I thought it was you," the princess greeted with a laugh. "How are you?"

"Me? I'm fine," Amanda stammered, picking the egg up with a grimace before she took the egg to the sink and rinsed it off. "How about you?"

"Oh, I'm fine. Rheza and I are visiting Washington again. I was hoping that you might come—and that maybe you could convince Mr. Stetson to join you? I'd love to hear whatever happened between the two of you," she said in a conspiratorial whisper.

Amanda laughed somewhat nervously. "I'd love to tell you something, but—"

"Oh, Amanda, am I keeping you from going to work? I know you were looking for work the last time we talked, and I just—I didn't think," Penny interrupted with instant concern.

"No," Amanda shook her head. "Actually, I had to take the day off. My daughter's home sick from school."

"Daughter?" Penny cried in surprise. "You didn't have a daughter last time I visited."

"I didn't?" Amanda asked, her smile faltering.

"No," the princess said with a droll smile sounding in her voice. "I take it that things with Mr. Stetson have progressed well?"

Amanda swallowed. "I'm really looking forward to your visit—it will give us a chance to catch up," she said after a moment.

The sound of footsteps upstairs told Amanda that Jennifer had hurried to the bathroom once again. "You know, I hate to cut this short, but my daughter's got the stomach flu, and I really should see if she's all right."

"Of course," Penny said kindly.

Amanda managed a small chuckle. "I'll call you back."

"Oh, don't bother," Penny said with a sigh. "You'll have quite the time trying to get through. What time would be a better time to call?"

"Well, maybe tomorrow," she said with a shrug. "Everything should be fine by then."

"Tomorrow it is," Penny said with a nod. "But if that doesn't happen, please tell me you'll come with Lee to the Embassy? I've specifically requested him as our agency contact."

"I'll do my best," Amanda promised.

"Good-bye, Amanda," Penny said with a smile. "I hope your daughter gets well soon."

"Thank you, Penny," Amanda said with a small half-smile. "I'll talk to you later."

Amanda shook her head as she hung up the phone. Imagine that, after all these years of exchanging infrequent letters, Penny had called to see how she was doing—and to let her know that the royal couple would be in Washington next week. It would be so good to see her again.

Amanda hurried up the stairs and headed for her daughter's bedroom. "How are you doing, sweetheart?"

Jennifer managed a weak smile. "I've decided to give up trying to sleep for the next few hours. I thought maybe I'd watch some TV."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Amanda said with a nod. "Besides, if you're downstairs, I can keep an eye on that fever of yours."

"I was hoping you'd bring the TV up here."

"Nice try, sweetheart," Amanda said with a small chuckle. "But it will do you good to get out of your bedroom. So, grab your blanket and your pillow, and head downstairs."

The teenager nodded slowly as she rolled out of bed. Amanda helped her gather her blanket and pillow, and walked down the stairs with her.

"What are you missing at school today?" Amanda asked.

"Nothing much," Jennifer mumbled. "We've really only just gotten into the new material for the school year."

"I see," Amanda said with a nod. "Well, we'll get you caught up in no time."

"I'm not worried," Jennifer said with a shrug as she settled herself on the couch.

Amanda helped her get her blanket and pillow situated as Jennifer turned on the television with the remote control. "What are you going to watch?"

"I don't know yet," Jennifer said with a shrug. "If there's nothing on, I'll probably turn on a movie."

"Will it bother you if I make some waffles in the kitchen?" Amanda asked as she carefully brushed a strand of hair from her daughter's face.

Jennifer grimaced. "Not as long as you don't expect me to eat one."

"Of course not—at least not until you're feeling like you want to try real food again," Amanda said as she leaned down and kissed her daughter's forehead.

"Hey, when does Dad come home?" Jennifer asked as her mother walked back into the kitchen.

"He's scheduled to be on a flight this afternoon around 2. I was supposed to pick him up from the airport around 3:30," Amanda explained as she went back to whipping up the waffle batter. "But I think I'll probably ask Philip and Julie if they can go and get him or I'll have him take a cab."

"Mom, I think I can manage to take care of myself while you go and get Dad," Jennifer said with a shake of her head.

"I know," Amanda admitted. "But I still want to be here—just in case you need me, okay? Your dad will understand. Besides, your dad's flight could be delayed—I haven't been able to reach him this morning because of his meetings—so it would probably be best for him to just take a cab."

"If you say so," Jennifer said with a shrug as she returned to her television program.


	5. 8:39 am--IFF

_8:39 am—IFF_

"I don't care what you have to do, Davis, I want those transcripts on Lee's desk before he gets back tomorrow," Francine snapped. "We are a government intelligence agency. We deal in information! What is the point of gathering information if we can't use the information we already have?"

She slammed the receiver down as the door to Lee's office opened. "Francine," Fred Fielder said with a sober eye.

"What is it, Fielder?" Francine demanded.

"The FAA has sent reports to NORAD. It seems that there are two suspected hijacked planes in the air—and they're headed for the World Trade Center."

Francine's eyes widened. "Are you sure about that?"

He nodded. "They're sending two fighter planes to intercept."

"Get word to our New York office," Francine snapped as she stepped around the desk. "Now!"

He nodded as he ducked back out of the office.

Francine instantly dialed a number on the office phone. "Justine, get Lee Stetson on the line immediately."


	6. 8:49 am--Amanda's

_8:49 am—Stetson-King Household_

"Lee, it's Amanda, I was hoping to talk to you about our plans to pick you up from the airport," Amanda reported into the phone's receiver. "I know you're probably in a meeting, and that you probably won't be free until just before your flight, but I thought I'd let you know that Jennifer is sick, and I'd really rather not leave her. So, let me know if you'd like me to call Philip or if you'd like to take a cab. I love you."

She hung up the phone and returned to her sizzling waffles. How good it would be to have her husband home again.

The volume of the television began rising, and Amanda shook her head as she turned to walk back into the living room as she prepared to ask her daughter why the television needed to be any louder than it had already been.

"…have unconfirmed reports this morning that a plane has crashed into one of the towers of the World Trade Center," an unfamiliar female voice announced on the television.

"Mom?" Jennifer murmured as a note of worry colored her voice. Amanda detected a small tremor in her voice as if she wasn't sure if the occasion warranted the cries which wanted to escape.

Amanda hurried into the living room only to find live footage of a plane hitting one of the towers of the World Trade Center. Her heart stopped. The New York City offices of the Agency were in that building. _Lee_ was in that building.

"Do you think that Dad—" Jennifer's voice choked with emotion.

"Your father is a resourceful man," Amanda managed thickly. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

She prayed she wasn't lying as she sat down beside her daughter, mesmerized by the horrifying news which had already sent earth-shattering shockwaves through her world.


	7. 9:15 am--NJ Turnpike

_9:15 am—Somewhere in Pennsylvania along the New Jersey Turnpike_

Apparently, his definition of impulsive had also shifted as he grew older, Lee Stetson thought to himself as he stood next to the smoking 2001 Porsche Boxster he had rented for his trip. He had stopped off at the hotel for a quick six hours of sleep before being "impulsive."

He supposed he should just have enjoyed the rest of his day in the Big Apple and caught his plane as scheduled instead of changing the terms of his agreement with the rental company and driving the Porsche back to Arlington. But the thought of staying that city much longer just made him anxious. He wanted to be home with his wife and daughter, and even a couple of extra hours would have been too many.

Now, however, he was stuck in the middle of nowhere, awaiting AAA's service vehicles with little cell reception to speak of. He'd had to walk down the road a bit before he reached a gas station with a landline he could use. That had been over an hour ago. He'd also called the car rental company and demanded another car. It wasn't _his_ fault that the engine had begun to smoke and wouldn't turn over!

As a result, he was awaiting not just a tow truck, but a replacement vehicle from one of the Philadelphia area rental agencies, unable to communicate his plans with his wife since he'd received a busy signal on the house phone and had been forced to leave a voicemail on Amanda's cell phone.

Yep, he should have just waited for his flight.


	8. 9:38 am--IFF

_9:38 am—IFF_

"There's been an attack on the Pentagon," Fielder reported to Francine as the agents gathered around in the Bullpen.

"The Pentagon?" she breathed in disbelief. She turned to her assistant. "Justine, get someone—_anyone_—at the DIA on the phone. I want to know what we can do to help."

The woman nodded as she began pressing buttons.

"Has there been any word from Scarecrow?" one of the other agents asked, turning to Francine.

She shook her head. "His itinerary places him in the New York office of the Agency located in the World Trade Center as of 8 am. And, with the exception of a handful of agents who were not at the office at the time, we have not been able to make contact with our New York field agents or administration."

Francine swallowed as she looked out over the field of faces in front of her. "I wish I had better news for you, but until we hear otherwise, I want to know how we didn't know this was coming—and what we can do to minimize the damage. So, everyone, drop the cases you're on right now, and start concentrating on figuring out who did this and how we can stop them from doing any more damage."

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a tall figure in a three-piece suit slip out of the Agency bullpen. She sighed. As if this day couldn't get any worse, Dr. Timothy Walker had some degree of ammunition to use against her and against the budget committee.

She shook her head. That was the _last_ thing she needed to think about right now. She needed all of her agents, including her, figuring out what had just happened and how they had let it slip through their fingers.


	9. 9:56 am--Amanda's

_9:56 am—Stetson-King Household_

Amanda wanted to do something productive. She wanted to be able to stand and make some tea like her mother might have done. She wanted to make yet another phone call to her husband and pray that, this time, he would answer. But instead, she watched the news with a numbness and shock that she'd never experienced before.

"…I just drove past the Pentagon across the 14th Street Bridge which is now choked with traffic. We're beginning to hear emergency sirens and rescue personnel standing out across Washington. There is a gigantic black billowing cloud of smoke that is rising over the Pentagon…"

Amanda's heart caught in her throat. "Philip," she choked out.

She stood instantly and turned off the television. She couldn't take another minute of coverage which made her doubt the safety of her family. Not when all she could do was worry.

"Mom, I'm scared," her thirteen-year-old whimpered as tears welled up in her eyes.

"Sweetheart, I know you are," Amanda managed around a well of emotion which had stuck itself in her throat. She hurried over and wrapped her arms around her daughter. "I'm scared too."

"What if Dad doesn't come home? What if Philip's been hurt?"

Amanda wanted to scream at her daughter to stop talking—these fears were playing over and over in her head. This was the kind of thing she'd wanted to stop by joining the Agency! This was exactly why she'd convinced Lee to stay in the Agency when he'd wanted to retire! And now, she was just as lost as her thirteen-year-old.

"Sh," Amanda managed, surprised that her voice sounded even remotely soothing. "We're going to be fine. No matter what happens today, we're going to fine."


	10. 10:36 am--GWU Hospital ER

_10:36 am—George Washington University Hospital Emergency Room_

Life as a resident physician in an Emergency Room was not for the faint of heart, Jamie thought to himself as he walked out of the operating room after assisting in a successful three-hour operation to save a woman's leg after a bad car accident.

He wiped his face wearily as he pulled off his scrubs. It was time to go home after a long twelve-hour shift at the hospital. It was time to go home, hug his wife, and thank God that she was safe.

"Hey, King!"

Jamie turned around, surprised at the call from Dr. Walter Nguyen, one of the attending physicians. "Yes?"

"How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Jamie said, mystified by the question.

"I know you just got off a twelve, so I won't hold it against you if you can't, but we need some extra help," the older man said with a more profound weariness than Jamie had felt himself.

"Of course," Jamie said with a nod. "What've we got? Car accident? Break in the gas line? What?"

"You haven't heard?" Dr. Nguyen asked, surprised.

"Heard what?" Jamie asked. "I've been in the OR for three hours."

Dr. Nguyen sighed. "There's been a plane crash."

Jamie's eyes widened. "Where?"

"The Pentagon. All of the area hospitals have been put on alert for injuries and casualties."

"The Pentagon?" Jamie asked in shock. "But—but my brother—"

"We might not see him," Dr. Nguyen assured with a practiced bedside manner that instantly calmed the younger doctor down. Then, his face darkened in serious consideration. "But it would probably mean better things for his prognosis if we _do_ see him."


	11. 11:20 am--NJ Turnpike

_11:20 am—Somewhere along the New Jersey Turnpike_

Two hours. It had taken him two hours to get back on the road. He'd finally left the broken down rental by the side of the road in the capable hands of the woman who had dropped the new car off to him and the man who had followed behind her in a small pickup truck.

She hadn't looked at him the whole time they'd made the necessary reports. She'd barely caught his eye when she requested his final signature for the transfer.

He hadn't meant to be hard on the rental agency. At least, not enough to make this twenty-one-year-old sales girl cry!

He'd tried to fix it by making sure to tell her to have a nice day, but that seemed to have made it all the worse. He had won himself a dirty look from the young man in the truck as if he had purposely tried to make her cry.

He used to pride himself on being able to read women. It seemed that skill had aged worse than the others.

As he got into the Mustang convertible, he could have sworn he heard her say something about how he didn't have a heart.

It's the Tin Man who doesn't have a heart, he wanted to respond as he sped away. Not the Scarecrow. The Scarecrow just didn't have the brain required to handle emotional young women. His wife and teenage daughter could attest to that.


	12. 12:25 pm--Amanda's

_12:25 pm—Stetson-King Household_

Amanda didn't know how it had happened, but Jennifer had finally fallen asleep. Maybe it was the exhaustion from her illness coupled with the emotional toll that the morning had taken which had forced her eyes closed midmorning.

Amanda wished she had some reason to close her eyes and ignore the turmoil of the world outside her door, but each time she tried, all she could see were the horrible images which had come to indicate a possible breach of her family's security. All she wanted now was a phone call from Lee and another from Philip indicating that they were all right.

Her cell phone vibrated on the kitchen table, and Amanda forced herself to stand up and walk toward the sound. "Hello?" she murmured, dully.

"Amanda, it's Francine."

Amanda's heart stopped beating for a moment, and she swayed in dizziness. "What is it? Is there any news of Lee?"

"Unfortunately, no," Francine admitted. "I was actually hoping he'd gotten in touch with you before he called the office."

Amanda felt sobs well up in her chest. "No," she finally choked out. "I haven't heard from him. All I know is that he was supposed to be in New York this morning, and that office he was going to be in was in the World Trade Center."

Francine sighed. "That's what we'd figured out as well. Unfortunately with the exception of a dozen agents who were near the city, but not actually in the office, we haven't heard from anyone at the New York office."

Amanda closed her eyes.

"As for the Pentagon, we're not hearing anything from the DIA—you know, the Defense Intelligence Agency—not even answers to our offers to help," Francine said slowly. "Our preliminary findings are that the floor on which the New York agency was located was one of the ones actually hit by the plane, and some unknown part of the DIA offices were destroyed by the plane that hit the Pentagon."

Amanda swallowed. "You wouldn't happen to know where Commander Hendrix's office is in the Pentagon, would you? He's one of the Navy officers in charge of reviewing experimental military technology."

"Commander Hendrix, no," Francine said after a moment. "But the Navy's offices were hit pretty hard. Why?"

Amanda swallowed as her heart sank deeper. "No reason."

"Look, Amanda, I have to go, but if by some miracle, Lee should phone you, I want you to have him call me immediately," Francine said after a moment.

"I will," Amanda choked.


	13. 12:59 pm--GWU Hospital ER

_12:59 pm—George Washington University Hospital Emergency Room_

Jamie wiped his face in the locker room. There were so many people in the ER today—some were victims of the Pentagon attack but so many others had been injured in the panic of the day. He could only imagine what New York City's hospitals had to deal with.

He had been told the details of the attack while he had stitched a young boy's hand. His mother had held the child while Jamie stitched him up, and she kept rambling on and on about the attack as if she had still been in shock. If they hadn't been so full of people already, Jamie would have sent one of the psychiatric residents over to talk to her. But it had been all hands on deck, and Jamie had been forced to send them home before he felt comfortable.

Even now, Jamie was taking a much-needed break before he would return to his work. He'd sneaked in a phone call to his wife before he started the additional hours, but he needed to know if any news had been found about Philip.

Jamie now knew what Dr. Nguyen had been talking about in the locker room. From the looks of the wounded that had been brought to the ER, the damage had been extensive. From the looks of what little Jamie had seen on the news, the death toll was greater than he'd imagined.

And it was his brother who was somewhere in the middle of all of it.

Jamie reached for the cell phone in the pocket of his dress pants, and dialed his wife.

"Jamie," she cried as she picked up after only one ring.

"Hi, Emily," he said with a small sigh.

"You sound exhausted," she murmured sympathetically.

"Yeah, we're packed," he admitted. "I just wanted to check in. Has anyone heard anything about Philip?"

"No," Emily said with a small sigh. "We were—well, we were kind of hoping you might have information for us. And—we were also hoping you wouldn't have any news for us."

"I don't have any news," Jamie said with a small sigh of his own. "And I both wish I did and am glad I don't."

"Jamie," Emily whispered after a moment.

"I'll be home later. We're still all hands on deck, but I'll be home soon."

"I love you," she choked tearfully.

"I love you too, Emily. If you talk to my mother, let her know I'm safe, okay?"

I will," she promised.

"I've got to go. Leave me a voice mail if you hear anything about Philip, will you?" Jamie murmured, looking at his watch nervously.

"You better believe it."


	14. 1:45 pm--Amanda's

_1:45 pm—Stetson-King Household_

Lee had been surprised by the amount of traffic he had encountered as he entered the D.C. area. He should have been home at least half an hour ago with where he'd been in his trip home, but it had taken him forever to bypass the interstate and take the back roads home.

He parked the car just outside the garage and walked into the house from the back door. "You'll never _believe_ the day I've had!" he said as he walked in the door and loosened his tie.

"LEE!" his wife screamed as she barreled toward him. In an instant, her arms were around his neck and her lips were kissing every inch of his face.

"Not that I don't appreciate the welcome-home," Lee said as his wife's intense affection had ebbed slightly. "But what's going on?"

Amanda's lip quivered as Lee noticed for the first time the sounds of the television. That was odd. None of them were terribly interested in watching television generally—especially not during the day. Not unless someone was sick.

"Jennifer's home sick today?"

Amanda nodded as her lower lip trembled.

"Jennifer's _really_ sick today?" Lee asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Amanda swallowed. "Oh, Lee, when I saw the news, I was so afraid—I mean, I didn't have any reason not to believe that you weren't there—and then, when Francine called, I just—I was afraid she was going to tell me that you—I mean, it's not like this is just a family emergency. Oh, I'm so glad you're home. I was already at my wits' end worrying about you, and now Philip," she began to break down into tears. "I'm really only good at worrying about one person at a time, and now you're here. I don't know why anyone would do something like this, I mean—all of those innocent people…"

Lee blinked. He'd started being able to translate his wife's ramblings a few months into their partnership, but this was an epic ramble, even for her. "Amanda, what are you talking about?" he asked quietly.

"Two commercial jet liners crashed into the World Trade Centers this morning," Jennifer murmured from where she stood, wrapped in a heavy blanket, in the doorway to the kitchen. "They collapsed within a couple hours after the initial impact. The death toll is in the thousands."

Lee turned around in surprise. "What?"

"They suspect it's a deliberate act of terrorism," she continued as tears welled up in her eyes. "When we—" she choked on her emotion. "When we saw the first plane hit, we were sure that you were in the building—and if not in the building, then in the city."

Lee shook his head. "I left New York around 7:30, and everything was fine when I left." He turned a concerned eye to his wife. "What's this about Philip?"

Amanda swallowed down her emotion and wiped at her tears. "Another plane crashed into the Pentagon," Amanda managed. "Philip had a presentation at the Pentagon this morning."

"We haven't been able to reach him—just like we weren't able to reach you," Jennifer added quietly.

Lee nodded slowly before he reached for his wife and pulled her closely to him. "And to think I was upset because my rental car broke down, and the woman who replaced it for me seemed to think I was heartless." He sighed softly. "I actually wished for a while that I had stayed in New York."

"They canceled the flights," Amanda murmured, refusing to leave his side. "You would have been stranded there if you hadn't left when you did."

"I guess I'm pretty lucky," he said softly. He turned to his wife. "You said I got a call?"

She nodded. "Francine—from IFF—wanted you to return her call right away. She said it was urgent."

Lee nodded before he kissed her temple. "I have to call."

Amanda nodded. "I know."

"You'd think the government had something more important to do right now than think about making a documentary about it," Jennifer said with disgust.

"Hey," Lee said as he turned back to his daughter. "I know you're scared, but I'm not thinking about making a documentary about this. I'm thinking about making sure that the people I work for and work with are safe. And, believe it or not, we documentary film makers have an ear to the ground. My friends at work might be able to find out whether or not Philip's all right."

Jennifer sighed softly and returned to the living room couch.

"Cut her some slack, Lee," Amanda whispered. "She's scared. We all are."

"I know," Lee said as he raked his hand through his hair. "And right now, my biggest question is—how did we not see this coming?"

Amanda swallowed as she shook her head. "I don't know."

He nodded. "I'll probably have to go in."

Amanda's brow furrowed in the way it did as she tried to hold back her tears. Her lips quivered—another dead giveaway.

"I wish I didn't have to," he admitted as he wrapped her in his arms.

"I know," she whispered. "I'm just glad you're all right."

Look, I'll do what I can to get in and out," he said softly. "I don't want you waiting for news of Philip alone."

Amanda swallowed as another torrent of tears began to threaten eruption. "I just hope he's okay," she choked.

"Hey, he's your son, isn't he?"

Amanda nodded.

"And you've got a habit of getting yourself into tough scrapes."

Amanda managed a thinly amused smile.

"And you've always gotten out of them."

Again, she nodded.

"So, I don't see why Philip will be any different," Lee whispered. His voice was thick with his own emotion which contradicted the confident smile he offered Amanda.

"Right," Amanda said, collecting her composure suddenly.

"I really have to call Francine now," he said regretfully. Lee kissed her forehead as he offered a final hug. "Hopefully, I'll have some good news to report when I'm done."


	15. 2:00 pm--IFF

_2:00 pm—IFF_

Francine didn't remember the last time she had worked this hard. Every agent she had was investigating one of two things: what the plan was and how they had missed it. And while she had led task forces before, she had never led one of quite this magnitude or importance on her own before.

The phone on her desk rang, and for a moment, Francine stared at it with an irrational fear that there would be bad news on the other end of the line.

She had received enough bad news over this phone line to last her a lifetime. She wasn't sure she could handle it if another plane had been hijacked, another coworker had died, or another riot had made things worse.

The phone rang again, almost more insistent the second time than it had been the first. Francine inhaled slowly before she reached for the phone's receiver. "Francine Desmond."

"Francine, it's me."

"Lee?" she cried, standing up in surprise and relief that his voice elicited from her.

The whole bull pen looked up with great interest.

Francine was embarrassed to realize that tears moistened her eyes at the tangible relief it was to hear her friend's voice.

"You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice," she said with a sigh. "And I'm not the only one down here who thinks so."

A cheer erupted from the bullpen, and Francine realized for a moment that their over-the-top reaction to Lee's survival had been a reaction to the shock of losing so many fellow citizens and agents in the attack. A few people, however, had probably also been eager for Francine to step down as acting-section chief.

For once, it didn't bother Francine. She was just as grateful not to have to bear this burden anymore.

"Fill me in, Francine. Have we made contact with Jack Turner in the New York office?"

"No," she said with a sigh. "We've managed to reach a dozen agents who were not in the office at the time of the attack, but that's all."

Lee cursed under his breath.

"We've also lost contact with the DIA."

Lee groaned. "I'm on my way in."

"Lee," Francine said after a moment. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why not?"

"First of all, until the panic starts to calm, it's probably safer to stay where you are," Francine said, calmly. "Secondly, I think Amanda really needs some support right now."

Lee sighed heavily. "Yeah. I just saw her."

"Look, Lee, you and I are used to this kind of thing," Francine began.

"No, we're not," Lee interrupted. "And besides that, it's not the only reason she was upset."

"It's not?" Francine asked, surprised.

"Her son, Major Philip King, was at the Pentagon this morning," Lee said. "She hasn't been able to contact him. I'd like you to put any news on his safety or whereabouts on top priority, along with the family members of all the staff."

Francine opened her mouth to protest before she nodded. "All right."

"Any idea how we didn't see this coming?"

Francine grimaced. If _she_ was interested in the answer, she could only imagine how Lee felt. "There's been a bit of a lag at Translations, Transcripts, and Cryptology," she finally admitted.

"I know. How bad is it?"

"Two weeks."

"Two weeks?" Lee cried. In her mind, Francine could almost see Lee rake his hand through his hair as he often did when he was frustrated or upset. "That's too much—even with the budget cuts, we can't wait for two weeks for sensitive information to be translated and analyzed!"

Francine nodded. "That was my initial thought as well, Lee. They're working on it."

She thought back to Dr. Walker in Cryptology, and she swallowed down her emotion. She wanted to be angry at him for stifling her progress, but she had a feeling—a feeling she couldn't identify or understand—that he'd only been so short-tempered with her because his hands had been tied in what he could do.

Lee sighed heavily. "I'm sure they are, Francine."

She wanted to explain to him what Dr. Walker had said, she wanted to unload her frustrations right then and there, but she could hear the emotional and physical exhaustion in Scarecrow's voice.

"Get some rest, Lee. You've had a long day."

She heard another sigh. "Not nearly as long as everyone else."

She swallowed, realizing that there was more information she had to share with him. More unpleasant information. "Lee?"

"Yes?"

"I don't know what all you've heard about the attack, but there was a plane that went down in Pennsylvania."

"I was just stranded in Pennsylvania," he murmured as if in shock. "What happened?"

"We think the hijackers were targeting the White House, but the passengers somehow took enough control of the plane to ground it."

"Were there any survivors?"

"None."

Lee sighed, and Francine could hear both his relief and sadness.

"Mitch Douglas was on that plane."

"Mitch?" Lee gasped.

"He was undercover, so the manifest will show a different name, but I cross-referenced his flight information with the manifest. It was him," Francine assured him.

Mitch Douglas had three teenage kids and a wife here in DC who would never see him again—and never know how much of a hero he had been, Francine realized.

"You think he managed to help take control of the plane?"

"I think he helped," she admitted. "It would be just like Mitch to hijack a hijacked plane."

Douglas had come to the Agency after years of military training. If any of the agents in the office were capable of overthrowing some part of such a precisely planned attack, it would be Mitch Douglas.

"Thanks for telling me," Lee said gravely. "Have you informed his wife?"

Francine shook her head even though they were on the phone. "No. We just finished putting the pieces together."

Lee sighed. "I'll stop by this afternoon and talk to her."

Francine felt a lump grow in her throat as tears welled up in her eyes. She prided herself on being strong, but how was someone supposed to be strong after this kind of planned and executed devastation?

"Francine, I'll come in tomorrow morning and relieve you, all right?"

She wiped the tears from her eyes and nodded. "All right. I'll see you then."

She hung up the phone and quickly hurried into the office which had belonged to Billy Melrose for so many years and now belonged to Lee Stetson. She needed some time to herself—some time to cry and release the emotion which had threatened to erupt on the phone with her friend and superior.

She closed the door and pressed her back against it as she covered her face with her hands, allowing herself to weep for the first time since the attacks had begun.

"Miss Desmond?"

Instantly, she tensed and dropped her hands. Standing in front of her with a concerned eye, was Dr. Walker.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded angrily.

"I was hoping to talk to you," he said quietly. "To apologize. I was angry about circumstances outside of my control, and I took that frustration out on you this morning. I'm sorry."

Francine swallowed, resisting the urge to wipe her cheeks of the tears which had covered them.

"Are you," he began before he hesitated. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she snapped, more harshly than she'd intended.

"I see," he murmured, nodding in understanding. "Well, if you were upset—"

She opened her mouth to protest.

"I know you're fine," he countered, swiftly silencing her. "But if you _were _upset, would it have something to do with the terrorist attack this morning?"

She swallowed, unsure she wanted to admit anything to this—this administrator who so clearly disliked her and whom she disliked equally. "It was—unsettling. Even for people in our line of work."

"It was terrifying," he murmured honestly. Then, he softened, "Especially given our line of work."

Francine merely nodded.

"It just frustrates me that this will be our fault when we're not getting the resources we need to do our jobs properly!" Dr. Walker cried as he turned from her and hit his fist against the wall.

Francine swallowed. "Look, this morning, I didn't mean to—"

"Of course you did," he interrupted, whirling back to look at her. "But I understand. The truth is, we're all frustrated by it. When you tie the hands of Crypto or Translation or Transcription, you tie the hands of the whole Agency."

Francine nodded again.

He inhaled, slowly attempting to regain his composure. "I'm sorry. I came to apologize and ended up interrupting a private moment and losing my temper." He offered her an apologetic smile. "It—won't happen again."

She nodded, still unable to speak.

"If you'd—move from the door," he said, motioning to where she stood.

"Oh," she murmured, stepping away from the door instantly. "I'm sorry, I've just—this whole day has been a bit—overwhelming."

Dr. Walker nodded. "I understand."

"What's," Francine began with a bit of hesitation creeping into her voice. "What is going to be hardest, I think, will be going home to an empty apartment and having no choice but to think about how much the world has changed."

She could see the agreement in his eyes as he nodded. "And not even having the comfort of the delivery boy's company for a few moments while he drops off your Chinese food," he admitted.

"Because everyone's going to be heading home early or closing up shop," Francine continued as she nodded. "And I can't cook."

"I can cook," he said with a shrug. "But I don't like to cook when it's just going to be me."

Francine nodded in understanding.

"Why don't you come to my place after work?" he suggested after a moment. "Just for the company and for dinner."

Francine hesitated for a moment.

"You just admitted you can't cook, and you've just said that you'll have a hard time finding a take-out place that will be open," he pointed out. "It's just two colleagues trying to make sense of a shocking and terrible set of events together."

Finally, she nodded. "All right."

"I'll pick you up here at five-thirty?"

"Assuming I'm free," she said with a nod.

He offered her a small smile, and Francine realized she'd never seen him smile before. He should do it more often, she thought to herself. "Assuming we're _both_ free," he said with a small chuckle.


	16. 3:47 pm--GWU Hospital ER

_3:47 pm—George Washington University Hospital Emergency Room_

"Doctor King!"

There was something about the urgency of the nurse's voice which suggested to him that there was a new priority in this triage situation. He hurried toward her. "What have we got?"

"Unidentified Marine," she said as she led him to the man on the stretcher.

Jamie's heart constricted. Marine? Philip was a Marine. And the man on the stretcher was about the right build to be his brother.

Jamie steeled himself to look at the man's face, praying that it wasn't Philip. The man's face was marred by some significant damage from the fire he imagined had accompanied such a massive impact, and Jamie's heart sank to realize that he could neither identify this man nor confirm that he did not know him. For all he knew, it _could_ be Philip.

"His BP is dropping," the nurse said, forcing Jamie to focus his attention back on his patient.

Jamie opened his mouth to speak, but his voice did not sound.

"Doctor!" the nurse snapped.

"I'm sorry," Jamie swallowed. "This man—he could be my brother—I just—I can't…"

"We don't have the luxury of changing doctors right now," the nurse said more compassionately though still urgently.

Jamie looked into the older woman's eyes, and he could see that she understood in some small way how he felt. Somehow, the knowledge that she knew this would be hard and the confidence she was trying to share with him gave him the strength he needed to move forward. He nodded in determination. "Okay."


	17. 5:18 pm--Amanda's

_5:18 pm—Stetson-King Household_

"I don't know whether to be grateful or jealous that you're able to stay so calm," Amanda murmured as Lee placed several handfuls of cut vegetables into the wok.

Lee shrugged. "I haven't had to live with this as long as you have," he said with as he continued working.

Amanda watched him closely. "Maybe not," she agreed. "But you were just there—you must have _something_ to say."

Lee clenched his jaw as he drizzled sesame oil, rice vinegar, and soy sauce over the vegetables in the wok. "Amanda, there's nothing to say," he finally managed.

"You mean there's nothing to say because we're still waiting on news about Philip," Amanda said, noticing his facial expressions. "You don't want to burden me when I'm worried."

Lee didn't answer, but he began to toss the contents of the wok with more agitation than before.

"Lee," Amanda sighed. "I want to help you, but I can't help you unless you talk to me." She felt her emotion bubble to the surface for what seemed to be the millionth time that day. "I know you think I'm fragile because I don't know where my son is right now, but I need to do something productive, something helpful. I can't keep thinking about Philip or I'll go crazy."

"What do you want me to say, Amanda?" Lee snapped as he hit his fists on the kitchen counter in front of him. "That it should have been me? That I should have stopped it before it even happened? That I should be able to tell you where _your_ son is right now, but I can't?" Lee dropped the wooden spoon on the counter and stood back from the wok in an effort to calm himself. "Amanda, I—I didn't mean that. I'm just—tired. And worried."

Amanda nodded slowly as she slipped behind him and turned the stove off. Then, she reached for his hand and led him to the living room couch.

Lee sighed heavily. "Amanda, I know you think I'm the best agent in the country—but I'm not. Not by a long shot."

She didn't say a word, but he could feel the intensity of her listening gaze on him as he looked out over the room and continued spilling the thoughts of his heart and mind. "You never met Jack Turner—all of the cases I ever worked with him were before you and I met. I just saw Jack Turner last night—no, this morning if you want to be technical—we were joking about stupid stuff." Lee swallowed. "Jack was the first one in the office in the morning and the last one to go home at night. He—he must have been there this morning. And if what Francine told me is correct, his office was one of the first to go up in a fireball."

Lee swallowed. "If I hadn't pushed for us to just finish—if we'd just gotten a good night's sleep and started fresh—"

"You'd be with him," Amanda murmured softly. "And I, for one, am grateful that you're not."

Lee sighed heavily. "It shouldn't have come down to that. I should have stopped it."

Amanda put a hand on his arm in an attempt to console him.

"Amanda, if I thought it would do any good," Lee choked, "I would comb through the rubble of the Pentagon looking for Philip. I would track down every survivor of that crash. I would look at every single body in the morgue. And I would find a way to bring him home." Lee clenched his jaw in an effort to stem the tide of emotion which washed over him. "But I can't, Amanda, because there are thousands of people like you and me who are doing that very thing right now, not including the media and the police. And so, I have to tell you what I've been told, to sit and wait."

Amanda's eyes held unshed tears in them as he finally looked over at her. "You told me you couldn't decide whether to be grateful to or jealous of me for making dinner as calmly as I was. Well, if I didn't—I just might—"

Lee's façade crumbled, and he dropped his head to his hands and sobbed.


	18. 9:42 pm--Jamie's

_9:42 pm—Jamie King Residence_

Jamie was amazed he'd actually managed to drive himself home. He'd been treating patients for nearly twenty-four hours straight. And his last patient, the unidentified Marine, had died on the operating table. He was astounded he hadn't gone out and gotten drunk before returning home.

"You're home!" Emily cried, running out of the house toward him as she wrapped a robe around herself to keep warm.

He nodded wearily.

"I saved dinner for you—if you haven't already eaten, that is," she murmured as she walked him into the house through the front door.

Jamie didn't say anything, but dropped into the living room arm chair without ceremony.

"Jamie?"

The resident sighed softly, not even acknowledging seeing his wife. "I had a patient die today."

Emily swallowed.

"My first," he said, turning to her for the first time.

"That must have been hard," she said softly.

"I didn't think he would make it—not from the severity of his injuries," Jamie admitted. "I just knew—from the moment I saw him—that he probably wouldn't make it."

Emily's brow furrowed in confusion.

"But he was a Marine, and every time I looked at him, I saw Philip."

Emily's breath hitched.

"His face was too badly damaged for me to identify him," he continued as if in shock. "But he could have been Philip's twin in everything else." Jamie looked out the window beside him. "I tried to get another doctor to replace me—tried to tell them I was too close to this case, but they told me we didn't have the luxury of getting another doctor." He sighed. "They were right, of course. I did everything I could do to save him for five hours—but he died anyway."

There was a pregnant pause, and Jamie looked at his wife. He could tell from the tears in her eyes that she empathized with him, but he also knew her well enough to know that she didn't have a clue what to say or even why he'd brought it up in the first place.

"What am I going to tell my mother?" he asked after a moment. "I don't know if it was her son that I operated on. I don't know if it was Philip I lost on that table tonight. But if it _was,_ don't I owe her an explanation?"


	19. 10:17 pm--Amanda's

_10:17 pm—Stetson-King Household_

"I had to tell Julie that I couldn't come over today," Amanda admitted as she lay in her husband's arms awaiting a sleep which was not likely to come any time soon. "I knew that getting her and the kids exposed to the stomach flu would just make her life that much more miserable."

"You did the right thing," Lee assured her as he leaned over and kissed her shoulder.

"I know I did," Amanda said softly. "After she got off the phone with me, apparently she called Carrie. Carrie's going to stay with them for the next few days at least."

"Where's Joe?"

"Stranded," Amanda said with a sigh. "In Paris."

"Paris?" Lee asked in surprise.

"He was there for work," Amanda said with a shrug. "He's stuck there until travel restrictions are lifted."

"But at least Carrie got to talk to him," Lee prodded gently.

Amanda nodded. "Not for long, but yes, she did."

"That's good," Lee said with a nod. "And it's probably a good thing that neither Julie nor Carrie have to face this time alone."

"How's Francine?" Amanda asked as she turned to her husband with an earnest look.

"She's—keeping it together somehow," Lee said with a shrug. "I'm going to relieve her tomorrow morning, but she wanted to make sure that you were all right. She said she could tell that you needed some support."

"I didn't have to run the office today," Amanda murmured with a shake of her head.

"No, but I suspect that running the office today gave her permission not to think about what happened today—not in the way you and I have been thinking about it," Lee said softly.

Amanda nodded, seemingly understanding his meaning.

"I'll go around the area hospitals tomorrow," Lee promised as he pulled Amanda closer to him.

Amanda swallowed as if she was too frightened to admit how much that thought frightened her. "You don't have to go to George Washington—Jamie said he would call if he found him."

"I don't think Jamie would have had a chance to see everyone that was brought to George Washington," Lee said somewhat skeptically.

"Maybe not," Amanda nodded. "But I know Jamie. He's going to be going there on his day off to find out what happened to his brother. And he'll probably call a lot of the same hospitals you're planning on calling."

Lee nodded. "I'm sure you're right," he admitted. "But to be honest, I hate the idea of doing nothing to find Philip as much as he does. And two sets of eyes looking around are better than one."

"Make that three," Amanda said seriously. "I'm not letting you do this alone."

Lee sighed as if he didn't agree with his wife's assertion, but he nodded. "That's what I thought you would say. But I'd feel better if you would handle the phone calls—especially since Jennifer wasn't well today."

Amanda opened her mouth to protest.

"I know, I know, you want to be out there with all the action," Lee said with a faint smile. "But I'm asking you to just hear me out. I don't want to have to worry about you out and about. And I don't want to worry that you had to identify Philip—there's no telling what kind of condition he's in, even if he's alive. And maybe it's old-fashioned, but I'd like to protect you from that as much as I can."

Amanda bit the inside of her cheek before she nodded.

He pulled her closer and kissed her temple. "We should really get some sleep if we're going to face tomorrow."

"I can't sleep," Amanda whispered. "Not knowing that Philip's out there—alone and scared." She swallowed. "He may be a grown man. And he may be a Marine. But he's still my baby."

"I know," he murmured, knowing that sleep would not come easily for either of them.


	20. September 12, 2001--7:15 am--GWU

**September 12, 2001**

_7:15 am—George Washington University Hospital Administration Offices_

Lee sighed heavily as he parked in the hospital parking lot. He didn't like the idea of searching the hospitals for the slightest evidence of his stepson, but neither he nor Amanda had gotten any sleep last night for all of their worry about Philip. Lee suspected Philip's wife, Julie, had been no less concerned.

He forced himself out of the car and up the ramp to the hospital entrance. The hospital was crowded, filled with people who were as nervous and worried as he was.

"Settle in and be prepared to wait," the woman ahead of him in line murmured under her breath in his direction.

"Oh?" Lee asked, feigning surprise. He'd fully expected to get the ring-around after waiting in a long line, but the peace of mind his wife would receive if he found Philip was enough to make him press forward.

She nodded. "They're trying to tell us that they're not releasing any of the names of the victims of the Pentagon bombing unless we're the Feds."

Lee was suddenly grateful he'd made a habit of always carrying his government ID.

"Who are you looking for?" the woman asked, eying him closely.

"My stepson—he's a Marine. He had a presentation with the Navy yesterday, and we haven't heard from him since," Lee said soberly.

She nodded. "Me? It's my husband. He's a contractor with the Department of Defense. I haven't heard from him since the attack on the Pentagon—where he was supposed to be in a meeting as well."

Lee nodded sympathetically. The woman couldn't be much older than thirty. The idea that this attack would forever change her life—even if she _did_ find her husband—made him physically ill.

The door opened, and Lee looked up to find his daughter-in-law walking into the room, looking like she hadn't slept any more the night before than he and Amanda had. She tried to find a smile to offer him as tears quickly filled her eyes.

Lee's heart went out to her, and before he knew it, his feet were taking him closer to her. "You don't have to be here," he whispered softly. "Jamie, Amanda, and I can look for him."

Julie fell into the chair behind her as she broke down into sobs. "I can't just sit in the house and wait anymore," she admitted softly. "I've made phone calls, and no one will tell me where my husband is or what has happened to him. I just hoped that if I came in person—"

She buried her face in her hands as another round of emotion overwhelmed her.

Lee wrapped her in a paternal embrace.

"I thought I could do this," she sobbed as she clung to him.

"You don't have to," Lee murmured in an attempt to comfort her. "Why don't you go home? That's the first place Philip will go if he gets discharged."

Julie nodded.

"I'll let you know if I hear anything," Lee promised.

She offered him a shaky smile as she nodded.

"At this point, no news is good news," Lee said seriously. "I'm sure they've already started contacting the families of the casualties."

Julie inhaled, calming a bit. "You've got a point," she said with a nod. Then, she sighed softly. "Oh, I really hope you're right."

Lee watched her go before sighing softly. So did he.


	21. 11:29 am--Jamie's

_11:29 am—Jamie King Residence_

"Jamie," Emily murmured as she walked into her husband's study with a tray of homemade waffles, eggs, and sausage links. "I brought you some breakfast."

Jamie waved it away, a green hue coming over his face. "I'm not hungry, Em. Really."

"Jamie, you didn't sleep, and you're not hungry," she said as she placed the tray on the desk beside him. "I'm really worried about you."

"Don't worry about me," he murmured with a shake of his head. "I'm not the one who was in the Pentagon."

Emily closed her eyes as she tried to fight back the tears that threatened to come. _She_ needed to be the strong one today. _She _needed to be the one to help him snap out of this—this mood which had overshadowed him since last night.

"Jamie, you don't know that who that man was on the table," she murmured softly.

"No, I don't," Jamie said, his head snapping up with a small spark of anger. "But that doesn't mean that _someone_ isn't mourning the loss of this young Marine! That doesn't mean that _someone_ isn't wishing for answers, and not finding any of them!"

The doorbell rang, and Emily sighed heavily. "I have to get the door. I'll come back after I get rid of them."

Jamie shrugged as he turned back to his computer screen which was filled with footage from the tragedy which had befallen the country only the day before.

The sight made her want to cry, but instead, she turned out of the room and walked to the door.

"Lee?" she asked, in surprise as she saw her stepfather-in-law on her doorstep.

"Hi, is Jamie here?" he asked, with little preamble.

She nodded slowly. "Yes. He's—um, he's in his study. He lost a patient last night—his first—and it's, well, it's taking its toll."

Lee nodded. "That's what I heard. I thought maybe I could talk to him?"

"Be my guest," she said sincerely. "Nothing I've said has helped."

Lee put a hand on her shoulder before he stepped into the house.

"He won't eat, he won't sleep—I don't know what to do to help him," Emily admitted with tears moistening her eyes.

Lee gave her a comforting smile. "Hey, he's a pretty strong man—emotionally, I mean. His mom raised him to be able to handle anything that came his way. He'll be okay."

Emily nodded quickly as she blinked away tears.

"Which way is the study?"

She pointed down the hall. "Second door on your right," she said softly. Then, she turned to the kitchen, in the opposite direction. "I'll, uh, get you a cup of coffee."

"I'd appreciate it," Lee said cordially as he walked down the corridor.

* * *

Even the replay of the devastating events of the day before couldn't remove the image of that unidentified Marine on his operating table from Jamie King's mind. But as disturbing as that had been, the idea that there was even a possibility that the Marine had been his brother had made him sick to his stomach.

A knock at the door caught his attention, and he turned just slightly toward the door. "Emily, I told you already—I don't want to eat anything."

"I'm not Emily," a deep voice said from behind him.

Jamie turned in surprise. "Lee. I thought you were—I mean, last I heard, Mom said you were in New York."

"I was," he said with a nod. "But I left before the attack. I had a rental car disaster, but—given the events of the day, I count myself fortunate."

Jamie nodded thoughtfully.

"Watching and re-watching the news, I see," Lee said as he looked at the computer screen.

"I didn't see it the first time," Jamie said with a shrug.

"I see," Lee said with a slight nod.

"What brings you here?"

Lee swallowed, and Jamie watched him somewhat curiously. Something was making his stepfather uncomfortable—something that he couldn't identify.

"Jamie, I went to the hospital today to see if I could find Philip."

"I said I would call if I heard anything," Jamie said as anger flashed in his eyes.

"I know," Lee said with a nod of his head. "And your mother and I appreciate it. But the truth is, I couldn't just sit around anymore, and as a resident, I wasn't sure if you would have access to all of the information I needed."

Jamie shrugged. "Okay. What'd you find?"

"I heard that there was an unidentified Marine who was brought into the ER, and that you treated him," Lee said slowly.

Jamie swallowed.

"One of the nurses even told me that you had been concerned about whether or not you could treat this man with your ethical responsibilities to your family and to your practice," Lee continued.

"You're spying on me now?"

Jamie's words were clipped and bitter as if he resented the implication that Lee didn't believe his words to their fullest.

Lee shook his head. "Your mother hasn't slept all night. I figured that we would both feel better—we would _all _feel better—if we knew what had happened to him."

"And you think he was the unidentified Marine."

Lee shook his head. "I have evidence that he wasn't," Lee said calmly. "But I wanted to see if you were okay. It sounds like you_ did_ think this Marine was Philip."

"Evidence?" Jamie's ears perked up at the sound of the word.

Lee nodded. "Philip's dental records and fingerprint records don't match up with John Doe in the morgue."

Jamie began to offer a sigh of relief before his eyes narrowed. "How'd you learn so much about my experience yesterday?"

Emily popped her head into the room, attempting to offer a small smile to her family as she brought steaming cups of hot coffee in with her. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she said softly.

"Thank you," Lee said, accepting one of the cups of coffee from her.

Jamie waved the cup away before offering a half-hearted, "Thank you, Em." He was more interested in the answer to his question than he was in a cup of coffee at the moment.

Her lips quavered as she closed the door behind her.

"So, back to my question," Jamie said, turning a pointed look to Lee, who was watching him over the ceramic rim of his coffee mug. "How'd you learn so much about my experience yesterday?"

Lee swallowed the sip of coffee he had just taken. "I went to the hospital," he admitted. "I asked about Philip, and a nurse told me that you had tried to get off a patient's case because you thought he might be your brother."

"That's awfully specific information," Jamie said, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "The kind of information they wouldn't just give to family members—but to, say, the cops and government agents."

Lee shrugged. "What can I say? I must have been persuasive."

Jamie sighed. "Lee, give it up. You don't have to pretend anymore. Philip and I know you're involved in something—top-secret."

"Oh, you do?" Lee asked, raising an eyebrow in skepticism.

"Yeah, we figured it out when you said you'd had a heart attack back in '97," Jamie continued. "We both thought it was strange that a heart attack victim hadn't been given a restricted diet and that he'd come home with his arm in a sling—even if he _had_ dislocated it when he became unconscious."

"So, that's what Philip said to you when you went out to get flowers for the dinner table," Lee said with an amused smile on his lips. "Your mother and I were both curious about that."

"That may have been when we figured it out," Jamie continued, undeterred. "But that's not the only thing that points to it. Philip reminded me that you saved our lives when those guys were after Dad. And you did a good job of punching the creep out who had tried to take us—too good a job for someone who supposedly makes government documentaries. And Mom was listening to these Russian tapes once—we thought they were funny, but looking back on it, they were codes for some government agency, weren't they?"

Lee's facial expressions changed slightly to a sterner and more warning look. "Look, Jamie, I know you think you've figured something out here. But you've got to believe that if your mother and I _were_ involved in something dangerous like this, we wouldn't be able to tell you anything about it."

"That's what Philip said," Jamie said as he eyed his stepfather with a steely gaze.

Lee seemed to relax a little though there was still an uncharacteristic urgency in his features. "Even more than that, it would be dangerous for you to know something like that. So—in an effort to keep you and your family safe—I think you should keep these thoughts to yourself from now on."

"Was it government work that had my mother kidnapped at gunpoint when she was eight months pregnant? Was it government work that had my younger sister born five weeks premature? Was it government work that had you leaving your family Christmas night, and not coming back for three weeks?" Jamie's voice faltered. "Was it government work that got my mother shot in California?"

"Your mother was not shot because of government work," Lee said seriously. "And the other things—unfortunately, that's the life we lead as documentary film makers. We do the best we can with what we've got."

"Yeah? Well, then it looks like your best isn't good enough."

As the words left his mouth, Jamie felt hot shame color his cheeks. What had possessed him to say such a thing to his stepfather, a man whom he really did respect and admire? On the one hand, he wanted to apologize, but on the other hand, he wanted to pretend he hadn't just said that.

Lee eyed him for a few moments as if trying to decide what to say next. "This isn't _really_ about whether or not your mother and I are secret government agents," he said calmly. "And it's not even about whether or not Philip is okay. You're feeling guilty because you think your best wasn't good enough for the man who died on the table last night. And believe it or not, I know how you feel."

"Lots of people get killed over the course of making documentary films?" Jamie asked, with a biting edge to his voice.

Lee sighed. "When I first started working with IFF, the production team to which I was assigned was investigating the importing and exporting of flowers. While we were following a lead on roses, we stumbled on a ring of Russians who were smuggling assault weapons out of the country in shipments of roses. I had a friend who was killed because she got too close to the truth. I always felt that I could have—should have protected her. But the truth was that she was killed because she was betrayed by another member of the team. I couldn't have done anything more than I did because I just didn't have all the facts."

Jamie wanted to call his bluff, but the look of sincere pain in his eyes told him that Lee wasn't bluffing. "What was her name?"

Lee looked at his stepson. "Are you asking because you want to know how good my cover is or because you honestly want to know?"

Jamie swallowed and looked down in shame.

"Her name was Dorothy," he said softly. "Look, I know you probably don't want to talk about this. It's hard, losing someone that you want to protect. It's hard the first time, and it's hard the last time. Finding someone who understands, helps. I found that person in your mother. Years after losing Dorothy, your mother helped me find some perspective and answers that I wouldn't have gotten in any other way." Lee sighed as he put the coffee cup on the desk. "I'm happy to listen if you want to talk, but I understand if you don't want to talk to me. Emily seems concerned about you. I'm sure she'd be happy to listen if you wanted to share. I know your mother would be willing to help."

"I don't want them to think I'm not strong enough—not smart enough—to do my job," Jamie finally admitted.

Lee nodded. "I understand that feeling. Sometimes, when I feel that way, your mom sends me to a professional." He pulled a business card out of his wallet. "Her name's Tracy. She's a therapist, and she's helped me a bit."

Jamie eyed the card for a moment before he accepted it.

"Talk to the other doctors at the hospital," Lee said as he turned to leave. "They could probably also offer some perspective."

Jamie nodded.

"Look, I've got to go. I've still got some other hospitals to call, and I wanted to check in at the office—see if they'd heard anything about the casualty lists. But you'll call if you need anything?"

Jamie nodded.

Lee offered him a supportive smile. "I think you're a great doctor, and I know your mom is proud of you too. I don't know if that helps right now, but I hope you'll remember that whenever you need it."

And with that, Lee left.


	22. 12:15 pm--IFF

_12:15 pm—IFF_

Lee strode into the bullpen of the Agency's Field Operations department, his thoughts and mood darker and heavier than they had been only twenty-four hours earlier. The visit to see Jamie hadn't helped—if anything, it had made it worse. Now, he knew for certain that Amanda's sons had seen right through their covers.

And more than that, he had just revisited a number of memories which he would have rather left buried—and shared them with his younger stepson.

"Lee!"

He turned his head at the sound of Francine's surprised voice.

"I thought—I thought you weren't coming in," she said as if to try and explain her surprise.

"That was yesterday," Lee said, looking at his friend and colleague. "Did you go home at all last night?"

Francine shook her head. "I meant to—I was going to try, but well, none of us have. In fact, I was just talking to Dr. Walker from Crypto, and—well, I guess none of the department heads in the Agency have gone home—or even slept much."

"Why don't you fill me on what has been going on here, and then head home," Lee said, leading the way to his office.

"Did you—sleep much?" Francine asked, looking at him.

He shook his head, wishing for a moment that he and Amanda had revealed the extent of their relationship at least to Francine. But every time they'd gathered up the courage to admit their marriage to their friend and colleague, something would come up which would remind them of the reasons why they'd selected a _mystery marriage_ in the first place—for the safety of their family. Besides that, they'd never quite figured out how to explain why they hadn't told her in the first place or why they'd kept it a secret for so long.

"I stayed up with Amanda last night—she was a wreck not being able to find Philip," he finally said with a sigh.

Francine exchanged a look with a couple of the other agents in the bullpen before she nodded. "That's understandable. I'm sure she's very scared."

Lee eyed his friend and colleague as they walked into his office. "Like I said, just fill me on what's been happening here, and go home, Francine."

She looked nervous. "Why don't we start with the debriefing before we make any plans, hm?"

Lee furrowed his brow as he closed the door behind them.

She walked behind his desk and retrieved a file folder. "We got the initial casualty lists from the officials at the Pentagon and at the World Trade Center. We're still in the process of highlighting the victims connected to the Agency and employee family members, but—" Francine sighed. "Well, we were going to call you."

Lee saw the concern lining Francine's face. "Is it Philip?"

She swallowed and handed him the file folder. "You'd better see for yourself."


	23. 12:20 pm--Amanda's

_12:20 pm—Stetson-King Household_

"Thank you for your help," Amanda said as she set the cordless phone receiver down. That was yet another hospital informing her that because of the volume of patients the hospitals were seeing, they were only communicating with local law enforcement officials about the patients in their hospitals.

"Any news?"

Amanda turned to find her daughter standing at the entrance to the kitchen with a worried look on her face. She sighed softly before she shook her head. "Not yet."

"That's good, right?" Jennifer asked with an uncharacteristically soft voice as if she was afraid to speak at all. "I mean, if he was one of the first to die at the Pentagon, wouldn't they have told us?"

Amanda wasn't sure, but she hoped that was true. "I don't know, sweetheart," she admitted as she opened her arms up to the little girl. "But it makes sense to me. So, until I hear otherwise, I'm choosing to believe you're right."

Jennifer hugged her mother tightly. It was strange to believe that just a little more than twenty-four hours ago, this thirteen-year-old had been a little girl with adolescent needs and desires, but that she was now much closer to the demands of full-grown womanhood than Amanda had wanted her to be at her tender young age.

"At least Dad's safe."

Amanda nodded her gratitude at the reminder. Yesterday at this time, she had feared for the safety of her eldest son _and_ her husband. Today, she was only worrying about her son. As terrible as that burden was, it was easier than the double-burden she had carried alone yesterday. But even that thought made her feel strangely traitorous to her motherhood, and it only tightened the knot which had sat in her stomach for the past day like a rock, refusing to allow her to live life normally while she awaited word from her son, her daughter-in-law, her husband—anyone who might have even the slightest bit more information than she did.

The phone rang, and Amanda's heart quickened. This could be the news she was dreading or desiring. A shot of adrenaline seemed to course through her veins, giving her the modicum of courage she needed in order to actually pick up the phone and put it to her ear. "Hello?" she asked in a voice that was more normal and confident than she thought it could possibly be under the circumstances.

"Hi, Mom."

Amanda could hardly move with the stunning relief that came over her with the sound of her eldest son's hoarse voice. "Philip?" she whispered as involuntary tears moistened her eyes. "Is it really you?"

Jennifer's hold on her mother tightened, but Amanda hardly noticed.

"Yeah, Mom, it's me," the Marine assured her.

"Oh, sweetheart, that's such good news," Amanda said, hugging her daughter as she spoke into the phone. "Where are you?"

"They took me to a Richmond hospital because all I had was a concussion and some other minor injuries. From what I understand, they took the others with more serious injuries to hospitals closer to the Pentagon," Philip explained. "I was unconscious most of the night or I would have called earlier."

"Oh, sweetheart, don't apologize," Amanda said with a shake of her head. "I assume you called Julie?"

"She was the first person I called," Philip admitted.

"Good. She was so worried about you."

"I know," he said before he sighed heavily. "Mom, I know Lee was in New York. Did you—have you heard anything from him?"

Amanda nodded. "Yes, he's fine. He left New York before the Towers were hit."

"That's good news," he said softly. "Can I—can I talk to him?"

Amanda furrowed her brow somewhat. "Actually, he's not here right now. I was going to call him when I hung up the phone with you. I can have him give you a call."

Philip sighed softly. "That's okay. I'll call his cell and leave a message."

"Philip? What's wrong?"

The Marine was silent for a few moments. "I—I tried to tell him that he didn't need to be there. I wanted to do this on my own, but he wouldn't listen to me." He sighed again. "I think I finally know what Lee's been talking about all these years…"

"Philip, what are you talking about?" Amanda asked, her eyebrows drawing together in concern.

"Mom, he's—he's gone. He saved my life, and now he's—he's gone."


	24. 12:30 pm--IFF

_12:30 pm—IFF_

Lee stared at the list Francine had handed him. "This can't be possible," he murmured. "I just—I just talked to him last week."

"I'm sorry, Lee," Francine whispered as she put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

"There _has_ to be a mistake," Lee said, raking his hand through his hair as he stood. "There's no way he could have been at the Pentagon. I mean, he's retired!"

"The Air Force clearly identified his body," Francine said softly. "I'm sorry, Lee, but your uncle—he didn't make it."

He felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. All this time, he'd been worried about Philip, and it was the Colonel who had been killed in the Pentagon attack.

"Lee, your phone's ringing," Francine said as she handed the small cellular phone to him.

He accepted it in a daze. "Stetson," he finally answered after a few moments.

"Lee, Philip called. He told me that the Colonel was there at the Pentagon yesterday," Amanda began instantly.

"I know," Lee whispered, his knees buckling beneath him and forcing him into the high-back office chair behind the desk. "Francine just told me. He—he didn't make it."

"That's what Philip said," Amanda said as tears colored her tone.

"You talked to Philip?" Lee asked, his stupor over his uncle's death clouding his thoughts.

"Yes. Just now. He's in a hospital in Richmond with a concussion and some other minor injuries," Amanda said instantly. "But he wanted to make sure you knew that the Colonel had been at the Pentagon." She paused for a moment. "Apparently, he saved Philip's life."

Of course he had, Lee thought to himself. It was just the thing the Colonel would do—sacrifice his own life for the life of a younger man who was still in the service.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Lee asked as he sighed.

To him, the Colonel had been invincible. Yes, they'd had their scrapes and disagreements over the years, but Lee had never wished such a fate upon the older man—upon the man who had raised him, however sternly, and saved him from a life of being shuffled from one home to another. Yes, he'd lived all around the world, but at least he'd had one constant in that life. Even if he hadn't believed that the Colonel had even liked him.

"Philip said that the Colonel wanted to introduce him to some of his Air Force colleagues—in case the Navy pitch didn't work out," Amanda continued. "Philip tried to say that his work would speak for itself, but the Colonel wouldn't take no for an answer."

And he'd been killed in a terrorist attack, Lee thought to himself.

"Come home, Lee," Amanda whispered.

Lee nodded, numbly. "Yeah, I'll be there in a few minutes."

He closed the flip-phone, and turned to Francine. "Under the circumstances," he began slowly. "I think—I think I'll take the rest of the day off."

She nodded. "I'll make arrangements to cover you for the next week or so. Just let me know if you need more time."

Lee nodded, mechanically, as he left his office. Just as the door began to close behind him, he could hear Francine say, "Follow him home—make sure he gets there safely."


	25. 1:35 pm--Richmond

_1:35 pm—Hunter Holmes McGuire VA Medical Center Room 314_

Julie Brown King hurried down the corridors of the medical center, frantically looking for her husband's room. Major Philip King had been transferred to the VA hospital in Richmond for treatment after receiving minor injuries during the attack on the Pentagon.

Her knees had almost buckled in relief when she'd heard Philip inform her that he very nearly had not made it. If not for Lee's uncle, Colonel Robert Clayton, who was not supposed to be at the Pentagon, Julie may well have lost her husband. But the Colonel had pulled Philip under one of the nearest desks as the rumblings had begun, and he had shielded the unprotected side of the desk with his body.

A lump formed in Julie's throat as she remembered for the hundredth time in the last hour and a half she'd spent driving to see her husband that the Colonel had given his life for the safety of her husband. Philip had escaped, according to his own admission, with minor bruises and scrapes and a concussion which had kept him from contacting her in the first twenty-four hours after the attack.

But he was alive.

She had proof of that now. She'd heard his voice, and she'd located his hospital room. All that remained now was for her to look at his many injuries and kiss what uninjured parts of him there might be. Then, she would shake in gratitude and relief with the sobs which were filled with alternating emotions: fear with gratitude, sadness with hope.

Her breath hitched as she came to the number she'd been looking for all along. 3-1-4. There it was. Philip was on the other side of that door.

She closed her eyes and took a breath before she pressed the door open, sensitive to the fact that he might be sleeping.

She quietly walked into the room, nervously fidgeting with her purse on her shoulder. "Philip?" she whispered as she walked past the small bathroom to the lone bed in the hospital room.

She gasped slightly as her eyes caught sight of her husband. His head was bandaged, his eyes were closed, and she could see significant bruises on his bare but bandaged shoulder. If Philip looked this bad, she could only imagine what the Colonel had endured before—

"Julie?"

The hoarse but welcome sound of her husband's voice emptied her mind of its original thought. "I'm here, baby," she murmured as she hurried to his bedside.

He managed a thin smile, though his eyes remained closed. "I didn't expect you to get here so quickly."

"After hearing that you were safe?" Julie asked with tears of relief pooling in the corners of her eyes. "Wild horses couldn't keep me away."

He forced his eyes open, and Julie couldn't help but weep at the depth and complexity of the vulnerable and yet strong expression they contained.

"Don't cry," he whispered as he reached laboriously up to wipe away the tears from her cheeks. "I'm fine."

"I know," she managed. "That's _why_ I'm crying." She held his hand in both of hers, kissing the palm of it tenderly. "I came so close to losing you."

She guided his hand back to the bed as he closed his eyes again, and he squeezed her hand gently.

"You're here. You're safe."

"Yes," he admitted. "I am. Thanks to the Colonel."

"I don't know what I would have done," she managed softly. "I don't think I could handle having another baby without you."

Philip's eyes opened instantly. "Another baby?"

She nodded. "I was going to tell you when you came home from the Pentagon," she whispered as tears welled up in her eyes again and began to stream down her cheeks. "But then, you didn't come home, and I—" She swallowed as she managed a smile. "That's all ancient history now. You're safe. And we're going to have another baby."

Philip shook his head. "Wow." A small but genuine smile flitted onto his face. "That's actually just what I needed to hear," he admitted. "I needed some good news. Something to remind me that this—this isn't all there is."

Julie swallowed as she grew more serious. "I know."

With some difficulty, he lifted his wife's hand to his lips. "I love you, Julie King," he murmured as he kissed the back of her hand tenderly with his swollen and battered lips.

"I love you too, Philip King," she murmured as she leaned in to kiss his lips with her own.


	26. 2:00--Amanda's

_2:00 pm—Stetson-King Household_

Jennifer Stetson had never seen her father cry before. At thirteen years old, she almost assumed that it was because men were biologically incapable of crying—especially since she also couldn't remember seeing either of her brothers cry, not even for a broken arm. But today, she'd learned otherwise.

He'd walked in the door after being on the phone with her mother a few minutes earlier, and upon seeing Amanda and her tears, he'd tried to remain strong. But he'd broken down into tears by the time her mother had helped him to the couch in the living room. Truth be told, that sight almost scared Jennifer more than anything else that she had seen in the last two days.

She, herself, had cried upon hearing about the Colonel's death. She'd had a special relationship with the gruff Air Force officer. Just last week, she and her mother had brought him a casserole and cookies, both of which had been Jennifer's first attempts at cooking on her own. The Colonel had immediately informed her that both looked delicious and told her how proud he was that he was going to get the first bites of her cooking.

Then, he'd gotten out his best dishes, called her father, and invited them all to dinner.

The casserole hadn't been quite what she'd been expecting when she'd chosen the recipe—she'd realized almost immediately that she'd used too many seasonings—especially the salt—but the Colonel had been just as enthusiastic after the first bite as he had been just looking at the casserole.

Where her brothers and even her parents treated her like a little girl, the Colonel had always treated her like a young lady.

She sat at her desk, staring out the window at the neighborhood outside. Everything had changed yesterday. Nobody came home and played outside. If anyone spoke at all, they spoke in hushed tones about "the tragedy."

Sirens wailed in the distance as she heard a light knock on her door. "Can I come in?" her father asked as she turned around to look at him.

"Sure," she said with a shrug.

"How are you feeling?" her father asked from where he stood just inside the door.

"I'm all right."

"Good," he said as he walked into the room.

"How—how are you doing?" Jennifer asked as a lump formed in her throat.

"I guess you heard about the Colonel," he said softly.

She nodded. "You cried."

He winced slightly. "You saw that?"

She nodded again.

He sighed. "The Colonel, uh, took care of me after my parents died. It's—it's only natural that I would be sad to hear that he'd died. Besides you, your mother, and your brothers, he was the only family I had left."

"I get it," she said, trying to sound more grown-up than she really was.

"I'm sure you do," Lee said with a sad half-smile. "I've—well, I've never really hidden my past with the Colonel."

Jennifer nodded, sagely.

"Do you know that the first decent conversation I had with the Colonel—without your mother, I mean—was the day you were born?"

Jennifer looked immediately interested. "Really?"

He nodded. "I think he knew how worried I was about your mom—about you—and he wanted to help." Lee's somber lips tilted into an amused half-smile. "He actually offered to roast a turkey for Thanksgiving."

Jennifer managed a thin half-smile which mirrored her father's before she inhaled and sobered. "No one's ever really told me what happened," Jennifer murmured. "I mean, everyone talks about how scared they were when I was born, but no one ever tells me what happened."

Lee swallowed. "I think most of it is because we don't really _know_ what happened." He sighed. "There was some sort of mix-up, and some men came to the house and kidnapped your mom. She managed to get Jamie out the door to call one of your grandmother's contacts, a government agent named Melrose. The agents managed to reach me, and I got to the hospital just as they brought your mother in. With the stress of being kidnapped, she had gone into premature labor with you."

Jennifer looked concerned.

"Your mother was nervous, and so was I," he admitted. Then, he smiled in amusement. "But it was just because we didn't know you yet." His eyes softened as he looked into his daughter's face. "I realize now we shouldn't have worried as much as we did—we should have known you'd never let anything keep you down."

Jennifer felt tears prick her eyes, especially as she saw her father's eyes moisten.

"I want you to promise me something, Jenny," he whispered, using her rarely-used nickname. "I want you to promise me that if you ever feel unsafe, if you are ever worried about the future or about _anything_, that you'll come to your mother and me and talk to us, okay? We might not be able to do anything to fix it, but we can be there for you the way the Colonel was there for me that day."

Jennifer nodded quickly before she managed, "I'm scared, Daddy."

"I know, princess," he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her. "But we'll make it through this. We can make it through anything. You taught me that."


	27. 3:45 pm--GWU Hospital ER

_3:45 pm—George Washington University Emergency Room_

Jamie King still didn't know what had happened. One moment, he'd been grieving the loss of his patient while trying to absorb the shock of the tragedy and of his brother's disappearance, and the next, he had been on his way to the hospital. They were short-staffed, he was sure, and he hadn't exactly been up to anything productive at home.

"I specifically told you to stay home today," Dr. Nguyen said as he caught sight of the resident, wearing scrubs and a white lab coat, walking down the corridor. "No one who has worked at the hospital for 24 hours straight should be here."

Jamie nodded before he swallowed. "I understand, Dr. Nguyen. But I need this."

The older doctor eyed the younger man. "You need this?"

Jamie nodded again. "I went home, and I couldn't even get along with my wife. It took me a few hours to realize what was going on—I was missing my brother, and I needed to be doing something but I didn't know what I could do." He steeled his shoulders. "My brother has been found now—but there are many others who are still lost. And more who still need medical attention." He looked his mentor and supervisor in the eye. "I can do this. I can treat the sick, and I can try to help them find their way back to their loved ones."

Dr. Russell Nguyen eyed him for a few moments. "Does your wife know you're here?" he asked, finally.

Jamie nodded. "I think she was glad to be rid of me for a few hours."

He sighed. Emily had endured a lot from him that day alone, and yet she had still managed a smile as he left and promised to have dinner waiting for him either in the oven or in the fridge depending on when he returned.

She was too good to him, he thought to himself.

Just walking the halls of the hospital had been good for his soul. He knew now that he had been restless—needing to do something to ease someone's burden but too consumed in his own pain to even recognize that. Something about hearing that his brother was safe had allowed him to leave the house and return to the hospital. Something about hearing his brother's voice had opened his eyes to his unique contribution to his community.

"You lost your first patient yesterday," Dr. Nguyen said softly.

Jamie cringed. Had it only been yesterday?

"You need time to heal. To recover," the more experienced doctor explained.

Jamie bowed his head in submission. "How did you heal and recover from your first?"

A reluctant smile tugged at the older man's lips. "I went right back to work."

Jamie looked up, hopefully.

"Look, why don't you take a few cases with me—not because I don't trust you," he was quick to remind him, "but so I can be there in case you need some support."

Jamie nodded. It wasn't what he'd been hoping for, but it was better than nothing. At least, now, he could start carrying his share of this disaster relief. He could provide answers. He could save lives.


	28. 5:30 pm--Amanda's

_5:30 pm—Stetson-King Household_

Lee felt aimless. Yesterday morning, his first ambition had been to return home. Once there, his ambition had been to discover what fate had befallen his stepson, Philip, after hearing about the tragedies at the Twin Towers and the Pentagon.

Once Philip had been found, his plan had been to return to work and determine why there had been no active intelligence on this attack, and how to prevent another such attack from befalling the nation. Everything had gone according to plan—until he'd learned about the Colonel's fate.

Then, the world had stopped. As shocking as everything else was, the idea that Lee's only living family were the generations after him instead of before him—that he was the patriarch of the entire Stetson family—had made his world stop turning.

He hadn't even liked the man for most of his life, so it had come as a shock that Lee was going to actually miss him. But now, thanks to Francine's insistent shooing, he didn't even have the advantage of working through his grief. No, he was standing in his home, feeling more than a little bit aimless with nothing to do.

He should be doing something. He should be helping someone. People like him, with jobs like his own, were working around the clock in New York. And yet, he was stuck in Arlington, Virginia. Aimless.

"Mom's sick," Jennifer announced as she walked down the stairs.

Lee looked up, his brow furrowed in concern. "Sick?"

She nodded. "I guess she got the same bug I had yesterday."

Lee nodded. "I was afraid that might happen. I'll go up and check on her."

Jennifer nodded noncommittally as Lee's cell phone vibrated in the pocket of his jeans. "Stetson," he answered after he had put the opened cell to his ear.

"Lee, it's Billy Melrose."

He straightened in surprise. "I didn't expect to hear from you."

"I didn't expect to call you," the retired section chief, and Lee's predecessor, mentor, and friend, said with a sigh. "I heard about the Colonel. I'm sorry."

Lee's face tightened. "Thanks, Billy."

"I tried to call you at the office. That's when Francine filled me in and told me I could reach you on your cell."

"Any particular reason you needed to speak to me?"

"I got a call," Billy said after a moment. "They want to bring me back in and have me go to New York."

"Until they can restructure the New York office?" Lee asked, continuing the thought.

"Exactly."

"They made a good choice."

Billy sighed. "I wish they hadn't had to make a choice at all."

Lee couldn't help but agree.

"Lee, I called because I need to debrief you about the administrative meetings you were at in New York. If I'm going to restructure and run the New York office, I need to know what was decided at that meeting," Billy said, his voice reluctant. "I know this is a difficult time for you personally, but—"

"I'll come over tomorrow," Lee said instantly. "Amanda suggested I tape the meeting as well as make my own notes, so I'll give you a copy of the tape."

"She suggested you tape the meeting?"

A reluctant smile pulled at Lee's lips. "She says that sometimes she can't read my handwriting."

Billy chuckled, though his enthusiasm seemed far less exuberant than usual. "Who would have thought back then that putting you two together as partners would have been so permanent?"

"You," Lee said without rancor.

"Yes, but not nearly _this_ permanent," the older agent said after a moment. "You two are a good team. You have been for a long time."

"Thank you."

"Lee, I can come to you tomorrow," Billy said after a moment. "You don't have to come here. You've got a lot on your plate."

"No, Billy, it's fine—it's good. I need to do something more than just—moping," Lee explained.

"Moping?"

"The Colonel's death hit me harder than I expected it would," Lee admitted.

"It's not like there was a lot of love lost between you two," Billy murmured thoughtfully.

"No, but maybe that's the problem. We'd _just_ started to really respect each other, and then, as I was breathing a sigh of relief about Philip, I find out that it's really the Colonel who I should have worried about," Lee said with simmering frustration.

"Lee, you had no reason to worry about him," Billy murmured.

"I know that, but I still—I already felt like I'd let people down, but to add the Colonel to that list was—it was just too much."

"You feel guilty for surviving."

Lee sank into a chair and hunched over in defeat. "Yeah, it was a fluke—I missed my wife and daughter, and so I came back to Arlington early. I should have been there."

Lee winced momentarily. If he'd been speaking to any agent besides Billy, he would have made a stunning revelation, but that admission had come only a few years earlier after another set of distressing circumstances—a Russian agent who had targeted his young daughter for assassination.

"And if you _had_ been there, we would have been worrying about finding yet another section chief," Billy reminded him.

Lee raked one hand through his hair. "I know."

"You should call your therapist."

"Who said I have a therapist?"

Billy chuckled. "When I had your job, I had to get a therapist. I figured you'd have to succumb in order to cope."

Lee nodded. "Right. Well, I don't know—I'm not really in the mood to talk. To anyone."

"Even Amanda?"

"Especially Amanda," he sighed. "You know, Jamie was talking about how he didn't want anyone to see him look weak, and I have to admit—I know exactly how he feels."

"Lee, you can't carry this burden alone," Billy said soberly. "You have to talk to somebody. PTSD, Survivor Guilt—these things aren't just nightmares. They're real."

"I know."

"It's good that Francine's in charge of the DC office."

"I should be helping," Lee murmured as he stared at his hand, knowing how weak and useless it was right now.

"You _are_ helping. You're taking care of you so that when you come back, there's still strong leadership."

Lee closed his eyes. "I wish there wasn't a need for strong leadership right now."


	29. 6:15 pm--IFF

_6:15 pm__—__IFF_

Francine walked slowly through the door to the Cryptology department. The last two days had been so busy and chaotic that she'd not even had a chance to go to Dr. Walker's—Tim's—home for dinner at the appointed time.

She'd actually been relieved to discover that he, too, had stayed at the Agency all night. At least then she didn't feel like she'd just cancelled a date—not that this was a date.

The chaos had settled mostly. Lee was safe. Billy was being reactivated so that he could reorganize the New York branch of the Agency. Amanda's Marine son had been located.

Now, things could return to some new, undiscovered normal.

She wasn't naive enough to believe that there was not going to be a great deal more work for them all to do, but at least, the hysteria had died down.

"Did you need something?"

Francine looked up to find Tim Walker's blue eyes looking sharply toward her from across the room as a colleague nearer the door addressed her. Walker softened with recognition, and he walked away from his desk to meet her. "I've got it, Bridget."

The woman shrugged and walked away from the door.

"What can I do for you?" he asked after a moment.

"I wanted to apologize for last night," she said, her heart pounding loudly in her chest. "I had pressing business that couldn't wait until the morning."

"I know," he said with the faintest beginnings of an amused smile playing on his lips. "So did I."

"I thought maybe I could make it up to you by buying you dinner. I heard rumors that Nedlinger's is open tonight," she said after a moment.

Tim—she wasn't sure when in the last twenty-four hours Dr. Timothy Walker had gone from Dr. Walker to Tim in her mind—eyed her closely. "You look tired. Are you sure you want to go out?"

Francine sighed softly. She didn't really—she wanted to go home, curl up with a glass of wine, or something stronger, and sleep for the next week. But she also felt nervous that Tim—that Dr. Walker—would be offended that she didn't at least offer him a rain check.

"I—" she began before sighing. "I'm exhausted. How about you?"

"Me too," he admitted. "I have a couple of steaks at home that I could put on the grill and some vegetables I could steam. It won't take longer than twenty minutes to have dinner ready. Does that sound good?"

Very, she admitted only to herself. "I have a bottle of wine I can bring over," she said with a shrug.

"I'll drive?" he asked, his voice sounding with approval.

She nodded, gratefully. "That sounds great."


	30. 9:30 pm--Amanda's

_9:30 pm__—__Stetson-King Household_

To say that the last two days had taken a great deal out of Amanda's emotional and physical energy was an understatement. At nearly fifty years old, Amanda Stetson had never been quite as emotionally stretched as she had been in the last couple of days—from fearing that she'd lost her husband to fearing that she'd lost her son and so much more as she tried to absorb the shock of the attack on the nation she held so dear. And because they hadn't yet heard from Philip last night, she also hadn't gotten a full night's sleep yet.

Was it any wonder that her body had succumbed to the stomach virus which had afflicted her daughter the day before?

Amanda watched has her husband, understandably worried and tired, shuffled into the bedroom silently.

"Hi, sweetheart," she greeted quietly from the bed as he began to peel off his shirt.

He looked over in surprise before he managed a thin smile in her direction. "I didn't think you'd be awake," he murmured as he dropped the shirt onto the bed and sat beside her. "How are you doing?"

"I'm all right," she said with a shrug. "Mostly just tired."

He nodded.

"You look tired," she murmured worriedly.

He sighed. "I _am_ tired," he admitted. "Billy called a few hours ago. Apparently, he's been reactivated to restructure the New York branch of the Agency. He needed my notes on the administrative meetings we just finished."

"You should probably just send those notes to anyone who was in attendance," Amanda said after a moment. "I doubt a transcription will be coming from New York."

He nodded. "I already contacted Ted, Miles, Bradley, and Lyman about getting the tape of the meeting to them. I'll also have some of the guys from transcription type something up."

She nodded her approval. "That's good."

"I have you to thank for it," he said with a grave smile.

"You have your terrible handwriting to thank for it," she teased gently, trying to get him to smile or laugh.

He did neither.

"Do you know what you want to do?" she asked as she reached for his hand. "For the Colonel, I mean?"

He exhaled loudly as he dropped her hand and stood. "I don't know. I guess we have to do something, right?"

"Not yet," Amanda assured him. "Not if you're not ready."

He nodded. "I guess that the body won't be released. And if by some miracle it _is_ released, it won't be for a while."

Amanda watched a shadow of pain cross his face, and she wished he wouldn't rebuff her attempts to help him. "A memorial would be appropriate," she whispered. "The Colonel was well-respected."

Lee swallowed. "He certainly was that," he murmured after a moment.

Amanda watched him slip out of his jeans and into a pair of pajama pants and a tee shirt which she'd hung on a nail in the closet for him. She wanted to get him to open up, to talk to her, but fifteen or so years of partnership and marriage had taught her that she had to wait for him to be ready to talk to her instead of pressing him for information.

Lee reached down to the floor and picked up his pants, a habit he'd picked up sometime after their wedding. He walked them over to the closet and toward the laundry hamper.

With a sudden energy brought on by anger, he slammed open the lid of the laundry hamper and dropped the pants inside.

"He wasn't even supposed to be at the Pentagon, Amanda!" he announced suddenly. "The man never meddled a day in his life, and the _one_ day he decides to start, some maniac crashes a jet into the side of the building!"

He turned an angry look to his wife. "What's more, he doesn't even really have any friends in the Pentagon. He always said he had no use for those pencil-pushing idiots—especially after that whole fiasco with General Patterson. I don't know what he thought he could do for Philip!" Lee sank onto the bed as his anger ebbed slowly away. "He thought General Patterson was his friend, and he was the one framing the Colonel for sabotage to cover the fact that _he_ was selling secrets! The Colonel never recovered from that—not really."

Amanda felt tears prick her eyes. It had been clear when she had met the Colonel that he wasn't a man who made friends easily, so she could only guess at how hurtful the whole situation had been for him.

"What am I going to do without him?" Lee asked, turning to her with grief-stricken eyes. "I never thought I needed him, but the idea of approaching the next who-knows-how-long without him is just—it's too much."

Amanda opened her arms to her husband who leaned into the embrace. "How do you miss someone you're not even sure you like?" he asked after a moment.

"That's the secret to love," she whispered with tears coloring her tone. "You don't always have to like someone to love them."

He held her tightly. "But I can't even tell you why I loved him," Lee murmured in confusion.

"Lee, you met him when you were a little boy," she explained. "Children have an ability to love for no reason at all. Maybe the reason you clashed so often was because you loved him so much that you wanted his respect. And he loved you so much that he thought you already knew you had it."

Lee pulled away with a derisive laugh. "That sounds like us."

Amanda smiled through her tears, and then she reached a hand out to his with a more sober look in her eye. "The Colonel was just from a time where one didn't say things like 'I love you.' Especially the men. My father was like that. His father was like that. My guess is that your father was like that too."

Lee sighed. "I honestly don't remember enough of my father to know," he said after a moment. "But you're right about the Colonel."

Amanda nodded. "Lee, I know he loved you. And I know he respected you. Working together to prove his innocence before his court-martial was good for your relationship."

"Marrying you was good for our relationship," he countered with a small but affectionate smile.

She smiled appreciatively.

Lee sighed heavily. "I'll call the Colonel's lawyer in the morning. Maybe the Colonel wrote something down about what he'd like in his will or something."

Amanda nodded. "That sounds like a good idea."

"What has this world come to?" he asked after a moment.

"Tomorrow will be better," Amanda whispered quietly.

Lee's brow furrowed. "Huh?"

"It's what Billy told me at your fake funeral. I was upset, and Billy said, 'tomorrow will be better,'" Amanda explained. "I came home and sent Mother and the boys off, and there you were—in my living room."

Lee sighed. "I'm afraid that's not going to happen here."

"Maybe not," she admitted. "But I do believe that tomorrow will be better—whether it's the metaphorical tomorrow or the literal tomorrow. Today, our children are safe, we have a roof over our heads, and we have each other. For now, I'm choosing to believe that's enough. No matter what the future brings."

Lee pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. "I love you," he whispered. "And I wish I could be more like you—to have your optimism, but I—I just don't know how…"

"Just trust that you'll be okay," she said with a soft smile, "because you will be okay. Life will never be the same, but you'll be okay."

He nodded as he just sat and held her in his arms. "I'm so lucky to have you," he murmured.

"And I'm lucky to have you," she whispered.


	31. 11:30 pm--Jamie's

_11:30 pm__—__Jamie King's Residence_

Jamie tiptoed into the master bedroom after a few hours at the hospital. He was physically, emotionally, and spiritually exhausted, just as he had been the night before. But unlike last night, most of Jamie's questions had been answered and some of his fears had been allayed, and so, he saw a long and fitful rest in his immediate future.

Emily had been true to her promise, and Jamie had already reheated and inhaled the roasted chicken and vegetable plate she'd left for him in the refrigerator.

It didn't surprise him after the hard day they had shared that she had retired to bed already. She may not have been treating injured and ill patients all day, but she had put up with his depression and general bad humor far longer than he would have expected of any saint.

He slipped out of his clothes and into his pajamas before he slipped into bed beside his wife, who rolled over toward him.

He smiled as she managed to open her eyes. "You're home."

"Yeah, I am."

"You look like you're feeling better," she murmured as she snuggled up to him.

He wrapped his arms around her. "I _am_ feeling better. It was good to feel like I could make a difference."

She nodded though he could tell she was already starting to fall back to sleep.

"Emily, I'm sorry," he whispered as he kissed her forehead. "Today, I—I got a little wrapped up in myself and in my own feelings. I should have—I should have reached out to you more. I should have taken a step back and realized that this wasn't just happening to me. It was happening to all of us."

"I understand," she managed as sleep colored her tone. "Let's just go to bed, and we'll talk tomorrow."

Jamie swallowed. He had to—he had to talk to her. He had to say what he had decided today. "There's talk that we'll go to war over this," he managed after a moment.

Her eyes flew open as she suddenly became awake. "What?"

"There's talk that Congress will declare war over this," Jamie said again.

"Where did you hear that?"

"The news, some of the other doctors," Jamie said with a shrug.

"It makes sense. The country's hurting—we're all hurting because of this."

He nodded. "If they do declare war, I want to go."

Emily turned wide eyes to him. "What?"

"They'll need doctors, and I need to feel like I'm doing something," Jamie said as he swallowed. "My entire life, I've felt like other people were protecting me from things: my mom, my dad, Lee, my brother, the Colonel, everyone."

"And going to war is going to prove something to them?" Emily asked, her eyes open wide with surprise and fear.

"No," Jamie said with a shake of his head. "It's not about proving something—not to me and not to them."

"But—?" she prompted.

"But I don't know if I can just sit back with this one," he admitted. "I have skills they're going to need. I can keep someone from feeling the way we felt when we thought we'd lost Philip. I can't save them all, but I can save the ones I _can_ save."

Tears sprang to Emily's eyes. "But—but what about me? What about us?" she whispered. "If you're deployed to who-knows-where, what does that mean for our plans to start a family next year?"

Jamie pressed his forehead to his wife's forehead. "I didn't say it was an easy decision," he whispered, his throat thick with emotion. "But they need me. And I need to do this."

She nodded slowly. "Then, I say we start now."

"Start what now?" he asked curiously.

"If you're going to leave me, Jamie King," she whispered fiercely, "I want to have a piece of you with me before you go. I want to have a baby."


	32. September 13, 2001--6:32 am--Arlington

**September 13, 2001**

_6:32 am__—__Timothy Walker__'__s Home_

The sound of coffee percolating and the permeating smell thereof gently eased Francine from a warm, soft and fitful rest to wakefulness. Hm…how she loved coffee first thing in the morning.

Her eyes opened suddenly as she began to realize that, at her home, _she_ would be the one to start the coffee—because she was generally the only person there.

A red blush crept over her cheeks as she gathered the blankets around her, prepared to make a hasty retreat. Except—

She looked down in surprise. She was still wearing what she'd worn to dinner last night—what she'd worn to work for two days in a row.

"Morning."

She looked up to find Tim walking into the bedroom with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in the other.

"Good morning," she murmured with a small though shaken smile as she accepted the coffee.

"You fell asleep on the couch before I ever finished dinner," Tim explained, seeing the unasked question in her eyes as he sat on the bed beside her. "I carried you in here so you could get a good night's sleep. I figured you'd wake up around eleven and get hungry, but—when that didn't happen, I figured I'd get a good breakfast in you instead." He offered her a sympathetic smile. "I guess you were more tired than you thought."

Francine blushed. "I—I don't usually fall asleep like that in another person's home."

Tim waved it off. "You'd had a long, hard couple of days, just like the rest of America. You deserved some good rest."

"Yes, well," she murmured, thinking back to the handful of times she'd been drugged and tricked into revealing classified information to people. "I—just hope you don't have a tape recorder. I've been told I talk in my sleep."

Tim raised an eyebrow in curiosity, but she turned her attention to the coffee in her cup.

"What about you?" she asked after swallowing her first sip of coffee. "You also spent two days at the Agency. And yet, you stayed awake longer than I did and you woke earlier than I did."

"I managed to take a couple of naps at the office," he said with a shrug. "That's the great thing about Crypto. Most of the work is done by computer. So, when we have information which needs to be processed, we really just need someone to run it through a decryption program, make sure it makes sense, and repeat the process until it does. You agents are the ones who have to figure out if the message which makes sense applies to the case at hand."

Francine nodded. "Yes, I suppose so."

"Besides, I'm the regular boss," he said with a half-smile. "You're the replacement boss."

Francine sighed as she looked down into her coffee mug. "I was only a replacement because the regular boss was in New York, and then when he made it back to DC, he found out that his uncle was killed in the Pentagon attack."

The words hung between them like fog on a fall morning in the Blue Ridge mountains.

It was the first time she'd ever acknowledged to anyone that she had known people who had not only been personally affected by the attack but also at least one person who had been killed.

"Did you know Scarecrow's uncle?"

She shook her head. "We'd met a couple of times. I mean, Lee wasn't exactly close to his uncle when I met him, so it was a fluke we'd even met at all."

Tim nodded in understanding.

"I was Lee's date when he and his uncle had dinner once," she said, approaching her complicated history with the Section Chief as delicately as possible.

"I figured," Tim said with a shrug. "With the exception of the younger agents, Scarecrow's been through most of the women in the Agency that I know."

"He's a good man," Francine felt obliged to assure him, "and a good agent."

"I know," Tim said, looking her in the eyes. "I like him."

"Oh."

Tim studied her for a moment. "You don't have to feel like you have to explain anything to me. I'm just your friend."

"My friend," she repeated slowly.

"We haven't known each other long enough for much more than that," he said as a teasing smile played on his lips.

Francine flushed instantly, looking back down at her coffee.

"But—I _would_ like to get to know you better," he added as he caught her gaze again.

She inhaled. "You would?"

He nodded. "I would. Sometime after things have settled down around here, and after you and I have gotten to know each other as friends a little better, okay?" He put a hand on hers. "I want you to trust me—to trust that I'm not going to pull out a tape recorder and record what you say in your sleep and use it against you, okay? And if that means that for the next little while—for the rest of our friendship even—you have to sweep me for bugs and inspect my files, I'm okay with that."

She swallowed nervously. Given what she'd said after she'd discovered that she'd spent the night here and given her career as an intelligence operative, she supposed it was a logical supposition that she'd been exploited for information, but the degree of cooperation he proposed was almost too specific to be coincidental.

He offered her an earnest smile. "I really _do_ want to be your friend."

Tears sprang, unbidden, to her eyes. It had been an emotional few days, but even knowing that, she couldn't have expected to be this emotional over some statement that he wanted to be her friend. She swallowed down the lump in her throat. "Thank you," she murmured honestly as she lifted her coffee cup to her lips.

"Once you've finished your breakfast, I figured I'd take you to your apartment and let you shower and get ready," Tim said as he stood.

"But my car is still at the Agency," Francine said, afraid she'd find herself stranded at her apartment.

"Yes," he said with a nod. "I figured I'd use the time to catch up on my reading before we head in to work."

He grinned broadly, and Francine couldn't help but chuckle. "Sounds like you've got everything figured out."

"Pretty much," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. "That's what we do at Crypto. We figure things out."


	33. 6:45 am--Amanda's

_6:45 am__—__Stetson-King Household_

"Morning, princess."

Jennifer popped her head out from underneath her covers at the sound of her father's voice. "I'm going to school?"

"Your mom and I thought it might be a good idea to at least consider the possibility," Lee admitted. "What do you think?"

She thought for a moment before she nodded her approval. "I don't want to get behind in my homework."

"That makes sense," Lee said with a nod.

"Except—"

"Except what?" Lee asked with his brow wrinkled in concern.

"Could you drive me?" She asked, timidly. "I don't—I don't want to take the bus."

He nodded. "We'll leave in a half hour then. I'll get your breakfast ready."

"Hey, Dad?" she asked as he turned to leave.

Lee turned back toward his daughter. "Yes?"

"I'm not—exactly—a breakfast person," she said with a look of chagrin on her face.

For the first time in two days, Lee laughed.

"Neither am I," he said with a grin. "But try getting your mother to listen that argument." He turned as if to walk out of the room before he turned back. "OJ and a peanut butter sandwich?"

Jennifer sighed in defeat. "Fine."


	34. 9:00 am--Richmond

_9:00 am__—__Hunter Holmes McGuire VA Medical Center Room 314_

"Good morning, beautiful," Philip greeted as his wife walked into his hospital room.

"Good morning, handsome," she greeted with a smile. "How are you feeling today?"

"Well, the headache is starting to subside, and my shoulder's starting to feel a bit better too."

"That's good news," Julie said as she sat beside his hospital bed.

She couldn't quite read Philip's look before he turned an anxious eye to her. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," she said with a shrug. "I'm good."

"I know that with the twins-"

"I'm fine," she countered. "You're safe. So, I'm fine."

He looked dubious.

"How about you?" she asked as she reached for his hand. "The nurse said you had a nightmare?"

Philip rolled his eyes. "What? Am I five now?"

"Philip," Julie murmured as if to chastise him gently. "You were injured in an attack on the Pentagon. The Colonel-"

"I know what the Colonel did for me, thank you!" he snapped.

Julie's eyes widened, and Philip sighed. "I'm sorry, Julie. I just-last night wasn't exactly-you know, awesome. I didn't sleep well."

"Because of the nightmares?" Julie whispered as tears shone in her eyes.

He sighed. "Because of the nightmares," he admitted.

"That's normal," she murmured as she reached for his hand.

"Normal?"

She nodded. "You've been through a trauma. Nobody would blame you for being afraid or having nightmares."

"I'm not afraid," he countered.

"You weren't even a little bit afraid?" she prodded gently. "A plane crashed into the side of a building and your stepuncle threw you under a desk to protect you, but you weren't afraid?"

"Drop it, Julie," Philip managed as his jawline tensed.

"Baby, you're entitled to some space," she admitted as she reached for his hand. "But I'm worried that if you're not even admitting to yourself that you were scared, we might be facing some challenges down the road."

"I can't say this any more plainly than I already have," she said taking a deep breath. "I'm fine." He swallowed. "The doctors even cleared me to go home this afternoon."

Julie nodded as she stood with unshed tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. "Then, I guess I'd better make the arrangements."


	35. 10:35 am--Billy's

_10:35 am__—__Billy Melrose__'__s House_

Lee hesitated for a moment as he approached the Melrose house. Though he counted Billy Melrose as a personal friend, the nature of their work had limited the number of out-of-office visits they'd been able to have—although that number had risen since Billy's retirement from the Agency more than ten years earlier.

Since then, Lee had rarely come to the Melrose house without some crisis on his mind which had needed to be managed. First it had been finding childcare for his infant daughter while Amanda was out of town and he was required at the Agency for a meeting. Billy had graciously gotten Jeannie to babysit.

Then, it had been confiding in Billy how afraid he was and had been after he'd shot a man in the parking lot outside his daughter's school only a handful of years earlier.

Now, it was passing off information which had been decided on by a handful of Agency leaders who had either been in New York at the time of the attacks two days ago or had just left New York.

Considering that Billy was the only one who had responded to his offer to share the notes from that meeting, Lee feared that they'd lost more than one section chief that day—who knew how many section chiefs had stuck around for breakfast in the World Trade Center or been stranded in or around New York.

He was one lucky man.

"I thought that was your car," Billy said with a grin as he opened the front door.

"I didn't knock yet," Lee said in surprise.

"No," Billy said with a nod. "But then, I didn't get to be retired without picking up a few tricks about surveillance."

Lee managed a thin smile as he entered the home.

"You brought the tape?"

Lee nodded. "I think we might have another problem, though," he said after a moment. "There were seven of us in that meeting—department heads from Los Angeles, Chicago, Seattle, Dallas, DC, New York, and Miami. As far as I know, I'm the only one who made it out of New York before the Towers fell."

"Francine seemed to believe the same thing when I talked to her," Billy said as he led Lee into the living room. "Jeannie's visiting her sister in Des Moines—with all this commotion and with all the grounded planes, she won't be back for another week or two, so we have the house to ourselves."

Lee nodded. "So, Francine hasn't heard from the others? Ted Gunderson, Miles Vincent, Bradley Hamilton, Lyman Vogler, and Cindy Travis?"

Billy shook his head. "I figure that if the guys upstairs got me in place so quickly, they'll have people covering for the others as well."

Lee nodded. "It's a little different with New York," he said in understanding. "The whole department may need to be restructured, but the other places should be fine."

Billy nodded. "That's what we thought."

"I'll reach out to their replacements today, then," Lee said as he sat on the couch.

"You're going in today?"

"You know how it is, Billy," Lee said with a shrug. "Something like this happens, and it's all hands on deck."

"Something like this," Billy repeated slowly. "To the best of my recollection, we've never had something like this—at least, not since I've been around."

Lee nodded. "You know, I used to hear the Colonel talk about Pearl Harbor. I think it was one of the reasons he wanted to go military. The Colonel was about fifteen then. He got into the Air Force before Korea, and—the rest is history, I guess." Lee sighed. "I wonder how many kids will join up because of this…"

"How's it going?" Billy asked.

"How's what going?" Lee asked, confused the vagueness of the question.

"I mean, how are you handling what happened to the Colonel?" Billy clarified.

"Do you ever handle these things?" Lee asked with a sigh. "Billy, I cried for the man who taught me not to cry. That seems—ironic, to me."

Billy nodded in appreciation. "But you're going back to the Agency today?"

Lee nodded. "Francine needs a break. She's been working around the clock for the past 48 hours. And it will be good to be too busy to think about the Colonel."

"Just be careful you're not running away from this, Scarecrow."

Lee managed a sober smile. "Do you think Amanda would let me?"


	36. 12:18 pm--IFF

_12:18 pm__—__IFF_

Amanda needed the stability of something normal. Her stomach bug had been nothing more than a little stomach upset the evening of her daughter's illness and into the evening after the attacks. And given her worry about Philip during that time, she wasn't even sure it had been an actual stomach bug. It could have just been stress.

Those two days had been hell—and she didn't use that word lightly. Still, she'd taken the morning off before she'd gone into work. She, like Lee and Jamie and everyone else, needed to be needed today.

"Amanda!" Francine cried, in surprise, as she walked past Amanda's cubicle in the bull pen. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm working, Francine," Amanda said, practically ignoring the blond.

"But—but what about your family?"

Amanda looked up in surprise. "They're fine," she said, eyeing Francine curiously. "Philip was taken to a VA hospital in Richmond after the attack on the Pentagon."

"I'm glad he's safe," Francine said, earnestly. "And—it's good to see you."

Amanda blinked as Francine walked into Lee's office. Had that really been Francine Desmond? The woman who had taken it upon herself since Amanda's first day at the Agency to point out how ill-equipped the housewife was for espionage?

Amanda shook the thoughts from her head as she gathered up her laptop, notepad, pen, and tape recorder. She'd probably need the speed of typing quickly to keep up with the debriefing, but truth be told, she preferred to take notes on a piece of paper with a pen—like she'd always done it.

And given Lee's experience in New York, she thought it only prudent to make a back-up of the back-up by taping the debriefing.

"Mrs. King!"

Amanda turned back, not surprised to be called by her ex-husband's name. She and Lee still hadn't told the Agency about their marriage—and they'd been married for nearly fifteen years.

"Phone call on line 3," Justine said as she put the phone down.

Amanda nodded, juggling the items in her hands as she walked over to the phone. Placing the laptop and other items on the desk beside the phone, she picked up line 3. "Amanda King."

Lee poked his head out of his office, motioning for her to come.

She shrugged and pointed to the phone as she heard a deep, moderately raspy voice. "Amanda? It's me. Joe."

"Joe?"

Lee sighed, hearing her ex-husband's name, and nodded his approval as if he understood that she would need to be late to the meeting.

"Yeah. Is this okay?" he asked, nervously. "I mean, that I call you at work."

"Yeah, Joe. It's okay," she said with a small smile. "I hear you're in Paris."

"Yes," he affirmed. "I was supposed to go home yesterday, but they grounded all the flights to the States until further notice. The EAO isn't thrilled, but I think they understand."

"What were you doing for the EAO in Paris?" Amanda asked, in surprise. "I mean, it's not like France is a third-world country…"

"No, but France has allied with us in a few aid projects lately, so I'm meeting with some of my contacts," he explained calmly. "Or, rather, I _was_ meeting my contacts up until yesterday. Now, I have to figure out what I'm going to do with my time."

Amanda nodded. "Yes."

"Look, I'm not calling to talk about being in Paris or having free time here or anything," Joe explained earnestly. "I wanted to know—how's Philip doing?"

"Philip? You hadn't heard?" Amanda asked as she sat in the chair beside the phone. "Well, he's going home today."

"I hadn't heard," Joe explained. "The last thing I knew was that he was in Richmond, and that he was safe."

"Yes. He's been in Richmond for the past couple of days. Julie phoned and said he'd probably be discharged later this afternoon," Amanda clarified.

"Good."

"She also said he's, uh, not doing very well emotionally right now," Amanda added, slowly. "Apparently, he's had a few mood swings since she got there, and he's reluctant to talk about anything that happened, and he insists that he wasn't scared."

"You've got to give him some time, Amanda," Joe said slowly. "It can't have been easy to witness—to experience—what he did."

"I'm afraid that he hasn't told us everything about the Colonel," Amanda said with a sigh. "I'm afraid he might actually have witnessed everything that happened to the Colonel."

"Well, if he did," Joe murmured with a sigh of his own, "you can't exactly fault him for not wanting to talk about it, can you?"

"No, I suppose not," Amanda admitted.

"I wish I was there," Joe said after a few moments. "I hate not being able to do anything."

"Join the club," Amanda murmured herself. "Lee, Jamie, Julie, and I have all felt the same way. And I suspect the whole country has as well."

"You're probably right about that," he admitted.

"What time is it over there?" Amanda asked, curiously.

"Six-fifteen. I have reservations for dinner soon, but I wanted to catch up with you. I wanted to see how you and Lee were doing."

"We're good—well, not _good_, but we're going to be okay," Amanda explained. "I mean, hearing about his uncle was a shock, and so, we've been taking each day a little at a time, but he's safe, Philip's safe, and—we're going to be okay."

"That's good to hear."

"Listen, Joe, I've—I've got a meeting I've got to head off to," Amanda said regretfully.

"Oh, I didn't even think about how your work must have been affected by all of this!"

"We're—busy," she said after a moment. "But we're going to be okay at work too."

"Ever the optimist," Joe said somewhat affectionately. "Tell Lee I said hello."

"I will," Amanda said with a smile as she stood. "Goodbye, Joe. And good luck."

"Thanks—if I'm ever going to get home, I think I'm going to need it." Joe paused for a moment before he began again. "Goodbye and good luck to you too."

"Thank you, Joe."

"I guess I'll see you when I'm back in DC," Joe said after a moment.

"You will, "Amanda affirmed. "Good bye."

"Goodbye, Amanda."

With a small sigh, she hung up the phone before she picked up her load again and hurried into the meeting.

"…we have thirteen agents who have been on assignment outside of the country who can't return until the travel restrictions are lifted," Francine explained, reviewing her notes. "Penelope Granger, who was on assignment in the Czech Republic, Bill Michaels, who was on assignment in the Caymans, Yolinda Carter, who was on assignment in Beirut…"

"I sent them all on their assignments, remember?" Lee interrupted as he reached for her notes. "I'll review the file when we're through with this meeting."

Francine looked somewhat wide-eyed at his desire to speed the meeting along, but she nodded and turned over the single sheet of paper. "All right. There they are—all thirteen of them."

"Wonderful," Lee said as he handed the paper to Amanda to include in her notes. "Amanda, Francine has been filing me in on the agents who are out of the office."

"Oh," she said with a nod. She could tell that Lee was getting somewhat bored. She knew he hadn't come for this kind of bureaucratic necessity. He'd come hoping that someone needed him in the field—needed him to find justice or something like it for his uncle, his stepson, and the rest of his family.

She'd also known that he wasn't likely to get such a call.

"We've been working with Crypto to reduce the lag in communications. So far, we've managed to reduce the backlog by almost one quarter," Francine reported.

"We?" Lee pressed.

Amanda noticed a slight blush appear on Francine's cheeks. "Dr. Walker from Cryptology and I have been working closely together to try and increase man hours while we tried to make sense of the attacks."

"And what have you found about the attacks?"

Francine looked uncomfortable. "Nothing yet."

"There could be another attack tomorrow," Lee said, looking at her with a pointed and steely look that Amanda had rarely seen in their partnership and never seen in their marriage.

"Actually," Fred Fielder interrupted. "The DIA suggests that is highly unlikely."

"I tend to agree with Fred," Amanda added.

"If they haven't attempted another attack by now, I don't think they've got another one planned," Francine managed, visibly intimidated by Lee. And Amanda couldn't blame her.

Lee sighed. "I know that in my head," he admitted. "But I have to—we all have to—assume that the attacks two days ago weren't the end game. It's our job to be vigilant." He swallowed. "We let the country down in the worst way possible. We didn't hear about this—we _should_ have heard about this. And because we didn't hear about this, thousands of people died."

The whole room was deathly still and quiet, the heaviness of his words settling over them like a dense fog.

"I don't _ever_ want to experience anything like that again—not as a member of this Agency, not as a citizen of this country," Lee continued. "So, let's keep working with Crypto." He turned to Francine. "You're already liaising well with them. Keep it up." He turned to Fielder. "I want you to cover Transcriptions and Translations. Tell Transcriptions that the tapes I sent over this morning are priority one."

Fielder nodded.

"I know this office has been through a lot in the last few days. Each of you has taken up a lot of responsibility, and I wanted to offer my personal thanks," he said, and Amanda could see the emotion welling up in him again. "But the Colonel was a man who always did his duty, and so, I'm here—to do what he would have wanted me to do. To serve this country in the only way I know how by making sure that this _never_ happens again."

The others in the room nodded.

"Francine, if you have any other information I'll need, you can just leave the reports on my desk," he said, looking almost twenty years older than he really was.

She nodded, placing a stack of papers on his desk.

"You're dismissed."

The other agents left, and Amanda looked over at her husband. "You didn't have to come back so soon—not even the Colonel would have expected that of you."

"Maybe," he said with a shrug. "But I'm here now, so let's just get some good things done, okay?"

She nodded as she reached for the files on the desk. "Why don't I read through these and get you a bullet-point summary of them?"

Lee turned a grateful, though sad, smile to her. "What would I do without you?"

"You'd have to read a lot more reports," Amanda teased, hoping to get a smile out of him.

He managed a wan smile before he returned his attention to the desk. "That was Joe on the phone?"

"He wanted to make sure that we were okay."

"And what did you tell him?" Lee asked, fingering the corner of the desktop calendar absently.

"I told him that we were going to be okay."

Lee nodded.

"I told him that Julie's worried about Philip."

Lee's brow furrowed as he lifted his gaze to hers.

"He's started to exhibit some signs of traumatic stress," Amanda said with a sigh.

Lee nodded as he began to understand. "It's hard," he murmured quietly. "You're never the same after you see something like that."

"Did he tell you what he saw?"

Lee shook his head. "He didn't have to," he admitted.

Amanda knew better than to ask questions. Lee had a whole section of his early Agency days which were classified—even from her. What little she'd pieced together about the Oz network and their early dealings was enough to tell her not to ask any absolutely unnecessary questions—for her sake as well as for his.

Lee put his hand on his wife's. "It won't be an easy ride back to a normal life for Philip, and it won't ever be the same, but you're right—he _will_ be okay. Especially with Julie's help."

Amanda nodded as tears welled up in her eyes. "The thought that my little boy—" she began.

"He's not your little boy anymore, Amanda," Lee said with a sigh. "He's a man. He's a soldier. And his life has just been turned on its ear. He probably won't talk about some of these things with you, but I'll make sure he gets whatever help he needs, okay?"

Amanda nodded. "Thank you."

Lee's face grew stony. "The Colonel would have done same." Lee's jaw flexed as if he was holding back tears. "The Colonel _did_ do the same for me—after I got home from the Turkish catacombs. But I was too stupid to realize it meant he cared. I thought he was disappointed in me."

Amanda patted his hand in an effort to reassure him.

"Philip needs to take this in his own time," Lee explained as he forced an attempt at a supportive smile. "He'll be okay, Amanda. He just _isn__'__t_ right now. And, for now, that's okay."

Amanda managed a brave smile, and Lee squeezed her fingers gently. "He's going to be fine."

Amanda nodded slowly. "He's going to be fine," she repeated softly.


	37. 3:15 pm--Amanda's

_3:15 pm—Stetson-King Residence_

Jennifer sighed heavily as she punched in the garage code and walked through the garage to the house. Her first day of school, while initially a comforting return to normalcy, had turned out to be anything but.

She dumped her backpack with a heavy thud beside the door as she entered the kitchen.

"Hard day?"

Jennifer jumped as she heard her father's voice. She'd expected to do what she normally did, enter the house and do her homework while she waited for her parents to come home from work. She had _not_ expected to find her father standing in the kitchen with chocolate chip cookies and two glasses of milk.

"Sorry," he apologized as she turned to look at him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in confusion. "I thought you were going to work."

"I was at work for a few hours," he admitted. "And I'll go back later, but your mom and I didn't want you to come home after your first day back and be all alone."

Jennifer nodded slowly. "Why wasn't Mom the one who came? She's usually the one who comes."

"Your mom went to see if she could help Carrie get Philip's house ready for him. He's coming home today," Lee explained without questioning why the girl had asked for her mother.

"Oh."

"I'm sure you can call her if you'd like," Lee said, motioning to the phone.

"No," she said with a shrug as she settled into one of the kitchen barstools beside her father. "That's okay. Mom never greets me with chocolate chip cookies. She always makes me eat an apple or something healthy."

Lee chuckled. "Then, this is our little secret?"

"Are you kidding?" Jennifer asked with wide eyes. "If Mom knew about this—we _both_ would be in big trouble!"

Lee nodded as he sat beside his daughter and retrieved a cookie for himself. "Yeah…we would, wouldn't we?"

She pulled a cookie off the plate, broke it in half, and dunked one of the halves in the cup of milk in front of her.

"So, back to my original question," her father murmured as his studious gaze rested upon her. "Hard day?"

She hesitated before she nodded. "Yeah," she said as she took a bite of the milk-soaked cookie.

"What happened?"

She sighed. "The kids were scared," she admitted. "And so some of them said some stupid things…"

"Stupid things?" Lee prompted as he dunked his own cookie in his milk.

"Well, one kid said something about how we're probably going to go to war, and another kid said that we better, and the teacher tried to shut it all up, but it all got out of hand," Jennifer said with a shake of her head.

Lee sighed softly. It wasn't unlike his experience at the Agency. He acknowledged that everybody had been hurt by the attacks, but some of the people in Arlington and in DC seemed to forget that there were people there who had been directly affected by the attacks—that they hadn't just watched them on the news or experienced the traffic outside the Pentagon or had trouble reaching friends and family who were worried because of congested phone lines. He suspected New York didn't have that problem to nearly the same degree, if at all, but it seemed that everywhere else, even DC, did.

"What did you say?"

Jennifer bit her lip. "What makes you think I said anything?"

Lee shrugged. "I'm not sure you did," he said, trying to sound casual. "But it seems that you might have had a unique perspective to some of your classmates about the whole thing."

Jennifer nodded slowly. "I said that if we went to war, my brother—who had just been hurt in the Pentagon—would have to go and fight." She grew quiet and stared at her hands which were now folded in her lap. "And I said I didn't really want that for him."

She looked up at her father with eyes which were shining with tears. "I don't think the Colonel would want that either," she whispered. "Not after everything he did to try and keep Philip safe."

Lee pulled his daughter into a hug. "I think you're absolutely right, princess," he whispered with a lump growing thick in his throat. "I think you're absolutely right."


End file.
